The Long Way Home
by cslev
Summary: A proposed continuation of the story-a Doug/Brenda love story with angst. Please read and review. I do not claim to own "The Hills Have Eyes"
1. Chapter 1 The Rescue

_**The Long Way Home**_

_**Chapter 1 The Rescue**_

He stood at the edge of the cliff clutching Catherine close, swaying dazedly as he squinted against the light. It caused the pain in his head to intensify, but he had to be sure. Through the cracked and broken lenses of his glasses he could see their broken bodies lying unmoving upon the jagged surface of the rocks far below. He felt a nauseated and bent to one side to gag, raising nothing from his empty belly. Catherine grabbed his ear and protested hoarsely, so he quickly righted himself and turned away. His mind warned against feeling nothing for the girl who'd given him back his baby, lunging at his attacker just to take them both over the cliff. Though she had sacrificed herself the only feeling he had was a wonder. How had she become the only one of them to retain some semblance of humanity? Her selfless act played along his consciousness but he was too numb to feel anything but gratitude that he was at free from them at last.

Turning abruptly, he murmured a word of hope to Catherine and whistled to Beast. The German shepherd stopped abruptly, his ears picking up before he turned his head and looked back. His tail wagged encouragingly and he barked once to signal his eagerness to return to camp. Stumbling in his wake, he followed the dog's lead and prayed he would not trip and fall. Catherine splayed her hand along his cheek and he winced in pain but kissed the top of her head.

"We're going back, sweetheart," he croaked to her, banishing the sudden vision of Lynne from his mind. For now he would not think of her—he just couldn't.

Brenda stared blankly at the wreckage surrounding them, thinking how stupid it had been for them to blow up their only means of shelter. Gripping Bobby's arm just to assure herself that he was close, she shivered at the thought of the mutant who'd almost killed them both. They had to do it—there was no other way to get rid of him and save themselves.

"I'm not leaving you," Bobby drawled just to reassure her. She could feel his gaze upon her and looked up into his lined and dirty face. For the first time she realized that they were orphans now, all alone in the world without even grandparents. "We'll take care of each other," he reassured her, laying his hand over hers. "Let's see what we can salvage before we go."

They stayed close, bending to examine the scattered bits and pieces of their lives which were strewn across the burning landscape. Every so often they checked their surroundings just to be sure no new threats presented themselves. Her throat burned from thirst and from crying, for her emotions were a rollercoaster ride she couldn't control. The past 24 hours had proven to be Hell and she had no idea how they'd survived them. And was it really over? Did others watch and wait, planning the next ambush? If so, when would it come, and how would they defend themselves? At that thought images of her father's burning corpse and Mom's body providing dinner for the cannibal flashed through her mind. She felt her throat close at the sight of her sister lying open-eyed in a pool of blood, and would not even let herself wonder about Doug or Catherine, their little niece. By now they too were surely lost to some equally horrible fate.

"Look—a cigarette lighter," Bobby said in an awestruck voice as he bent to retrieve it. With one knee propped upon the ground he flicked it open and coaxed the flame to life, glancing up hopefully. "It works."

"Are you sure it was from us?" she said to make conversation. "None of us smokes."

He frowned as he got up and pocketed the silver case. "It's Doug's…"

She stared at him until recognition dawned. "He never really quit?

Bobby shook his head. "I caught him the day we left, sneaking a Bel Air behind the convenience store." A painful expression deepened the frown lines in his forehead before he glanced away.

"Lynnie would give it to him, if she knew—" she said before she realized her error, but Bobby kept moving just ahead of her.

"Yeah, she sure would…we should be starting out. There's nothing else here worth saving."

"Ok," she sighed, stopping to sigh with resignation. Something prickled along the back of her neck, making her feel like the tiny hairs beneath her braid were standing up. Alarmed, she scanned the horizon to her right, then her left.

He turned to face her, his expression changing to a guarded one. "What's wrong?"

She turned slowly, sure about the feeling that someone was watching them. Raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she scanned the trail down which Bobby had first wandered and her breath caught.

A figure stood in the distance, watching them. Her heart pounded with fear as she studied the bloody and torn upper body and slight slump of the broad shoulders. Her eyes traced downward along the bloodied fabric the wind plastered against his muscular legs. The right arm held something closer as he lifted his head, meeting her gaze across the distance between them. Recognition punched her in the stomach and her heart leapt for joy.

"…is that—?" Bobby began just as she broke into a run.

"_Doug!" _she shrieked in disbelief, charging toward him with renewed energy. "You came back!"

"Doug!" Bobby yelled, his voice cracking. She heard his steps come up behind her and watched him pass. Beast circled them yipping with excitement while Bobby leapt forward and grabbed his brother-in-law in a bear hug.

"Don't knock him over!" she screeched, watching Doug shift to try to keep his balance. His eyes held hers until she finally reached him and curled her arm around his back. Pressing her face against his neck despite the blood plastering his shirt to his chest and an odor of death, she eased Catherine from his rip to hold her and kiss her cheek. He gazed blankly at her as if he wasn't sure this was all real. After a moment she felt his hand slip behind her while he inspected his dirty but apparently unharmed little girl.

Satisfied with Catherine's present condition, she shifted her attention back to Catherine's father, looked past the blood and dirt coating him to examine the bruised and battered condition of his upper body. He bore countless cuts and dirt-encrusted wounds, his jaw swollen on one side. His left hand was bound with a bloody rope so that she could not see its condition. She looked up into his eyes, which were bright behind the cracked lenses of his glasses. Something in them told her that he had looked into the face of Death more than one time. Her eyes filled with unshed tears and she bit her lower lip.

_Don't you dare cry, Brenda! Not now!_

She was aware of Catherine's tiny hand reaching out to grab a strand of his hair which the wind blew toward her. Tugging it, she cooed softly to him and his eyes closed. Brenda watched his lips turn up on one side, as if her pulling his hair was something to be cherished. In that moment her heart swelled with love for both of them. Bobby swallowed loudly and cleared his throat.

"Let's get you back," he suggested, lifting Doug's arm to sling it over his shoulder. They heard him gasp in pain but he started in that direction, leaning heavily upon them both for support. She gripped the back of his shirt to help hold him steady, not liking the sound of his breathing. Over his bent head she met Bobby's look of concern.

"Easy now," Bobby urged, "it's not much further—we have water for both of you. "

When they finally eased him down onto a boulder Bobby went to get the water they'd managed to save. She clutched Catherine and knelt before him, gently touching his arm as she studied his color. It wasn't easy, he was so bloodied and beaten. He rested his arms along his thighs and hung his head while she touched the bindings on his left hand, its filth unable to hide the glint of his gold wedding band. He turned his head and eyed her warily.

"They chopped off my fingers," he rasped, trying to swallow. "I was lucky to lose so little."

"You saved Catherine," she said reverently, squeezing his arm. "And you came back for us."

He hung his head in exhaustion. "I killed so many…I just kept killing and killing..."

Bobby strode up to hand him a half filled bottle of water, which he offered to Catherine until she had a few swallows. Brenda cradled her against her shoulder as Doug tipped his head back and drank greedily until he stopped abruptly, as if realizing it had to be shared. His eyes closed in thanksgiving and regret. "How much left?" he rasped.

"Two more half bottles," Bobby reassured him as he went to Brenda's side. "Let me take Catherine so you can check him out—I wish we'd saved the first aid kit."

Bobby took her to Beast and poured out a bit of water for the dog to drink. Brenda rose to her knees and touched Doug's shoulder.

"Let me see where you're hurt," she ordered softly.

He met her gaze and for a moment she felt that he was seeing her as never before. Ignoring the pull of emotion between them, she concentrated on his wounds and gently opened his shirt. A large cut ran from the top of his shoulder halfway toward his heart, making her grimace. When she tried to peel it off he stiffened, clutching his waist and slowly getting up.

"We have to go—" he said in a gravelly voice.

"But you're hurt—" she objected, surging to her feet.

"Now," he ordered, walking past her toward Bobby and Catherine. She ran to catch up. "Doug please—"

"Night's coming," he warned them both, "we have to get far away from here."

Bobby shot to his feet, patting Catherine's back to reassure her that everything was fine. "But you got them all," he said with a shaky smile, "otherwise you wouldn't have come back."

"Leash the dog," he ordered, taking Catherine back. "Let's move."

Amazed at the his renewed strength, Brenda shook her head at her brother so that he wouldn't argue. She took Doug's arm and slipped beneath it despite his glance of disapproval.

"I'm fine," he warned as she wrapped her arm around his waist as they walked.

"You're exhausted and we need you," she chastised him. "So just let us help."

He pursed his lips but said nothing, even letting her take Catherine. Bobby caught up and passed them, leading toward the way they'd come with Beast in tow. After several moments of silence, she gazed up at him.

"Where did they have Catherine, and how did you get her back?" she asked gently.

He kept his gaze ahead, and she studied the veins bulging out along his neck. "You don't want to know."

"Doug, man!" Bobby teased from where he was waiting for them to catch up. "You're dead on your feet!"

"Bobby," she warned.

"Do you actually think we can make it back to the highway, or even back to the gas station?"

"That and more."

"But there's no one for miles—"

"We'll walk at least until we get a signal."

"That's miles from here, why can't we just rest at the old man's house?"

"We're not going anywhere near that place—"

"Why not? You wanna freeze out here in the cold that's coming?"

"The old man was the one who directed us here!" Brenda couldn't help reminding Bobby.

"But you don't know anything about the outdoors!" Bobby stated, his voice sounding crazed.

"He knew enough to get Catherine back—"

"Stop arguing, it's a waste of energy! You'll both do as I say if you want to survive!" he said quietly, frightening them both.

"Fine!" Bobby complained, turning his back and taking the lead again. For some time they said nothing, and sooner than they'd hoped they gained the main road. After they had long since passed the gas station, she stretched up to whisper in his ear.

"You need to rest," she pleaded softly. "We couldn't handle it if you collapsed."

He ground his jaw. "We have to keep moving," he insisted, glancing back behind one shoulder.

"Why, Doug? Didn't you kill them all?"

"I don't know anything!" he whispered, keeping his gaze directed ahead. "I think I did."

"But you're not sure?"

He glanced down at her then, pursing his lips. She could see the deep crack in his lower lip, which was fuller than the upper. "Let's just hope your mother's prayers get answered after all."

At the mention of her mother her eyes flooded with tears. She swallowed with effort and adjusted Catherine higher against her shoulder. He swung his gaze back up as she felt the cold weight of guilt deep inside her for all the years she'd balked at her mother's faith and resisted her efforts to include any form of religion in their lives.

When she composed herself again she stared up at his profile, remembering how he had always respected her mother's faith, never speaking against it when they all had. Then she remembered Mom's dying words to him, for he had been able to get close enough to her to help ease her suffering as she was bleeding to death.

_Sweet Doug…_her mother had gasped, _I know why Lynnie loves you so…_

Her respect for him grew again, and she secretly prayed that somehow they would find a way to get back in one piece, though in her mind that would require nothing short of a miracle. Before today she had never believed in miracles, at least not until Doug and Catherine had suddenly appeared.

She listened to the sound of his breathing, loud in the silent cold night. As they caught up with Bobby he waited, walking alongside Doug to take his arm and relieve her. She watched him accept her brother's help, though he kept his arm curled protectively around his middle. She worried that he had broken ribs or worse, and she wondered how he'd managed to walk carrying his daughter from wherever they'd come from. She had no idea what they'd suffered, but judging by his appearance and totally different manner, it had to have been horrible. Her mind filled with questions she felt were better kept to herself, for it was obvious he didn't have the will or strength to answer. That much was obvious.

On and on they walked while the stars appeared and a half moon rose higher in the sky. Always keeping a vigilant eye upon their surroundings they pushed themselves despite exhaustion, thirst and now cold. Doug's condition seemed to worsen, but any suggestion they rest was met with him speeding up the pace and pushing himself harder. She longed for him to tell them what had happened instead of keeping everything dammed up inside. Furthermore he'd watched Lynne die right before his eyes, and they'd been helpless to prevent it. Then he'd almost lost Catherine too. The combination had to be a lethal one, but it was obvious that he was being fueled by adrenaline. Unfortunately there would come a time when it was all used up, and she worried what would happen then. For now, all he would do was concentrate on getting back to civilization in one piece.

It occurred to her that this was not the Doug she'd known all this time, the lighthearted and easygoing guy whom her sister had been able to wrap around her little finger. And she'd accomplish this with as mere a gesture as a peck on his cheek or an affectionate hug in public. She knew for sure that he'd made her sister very happy, and the sight of them together kept her secretly in awe, at least when they didn't realize anyone was watching. There were times when she'd caught a glimpse of the passion between them, the last being just before her father had sent him to scout in the opposite direction when he'd taken himself.

But she would not think of her father now, and instead forced herself to remember the farewell kiss Lynne and Doug had shared, not knowing it would be their last. Even the thought of it still affected her more powerfully than she wanted it to. She remembered how his arms had gently circled her sister's waist, how he'd tilted his head and softly but thoroughly kissed her mouth. Just the memory of it rocked her to her core, and she shifted her attention to his profile to readjust her reality. Now, studying his vacant stare and downcast spirits she wondered how he would survive even should they make it back home. Lynn was gone, and he would be alone...he and Catherine.

The baby's coo drew her attention then, and as her little hand stretched toward him he turned to gaze at her longingly. After a moment he pulled his arm from Bobby's shoulders and motioned for her to hand her over. She watched him take Catherine back in his arm and hug her close, and in that moment Brenda felt she knew the answer.

Suddenly something changed, and light flashed at the distant horizon. Doug lifted his head warily and Bobby stopped. They slowed their steps to listen, Doug's panting far too obvious. She reached for the baby as he stooped slightly to catch his breath.

"I've got her," she told him softly, her hand upon his arm. She could feel the heat coming from him beneath his dried and bloodied shirt. They heard the distant sound of engines and moved to the side of the road.

"It's a truck!" Bobby declared beneath the sound of shifting gears. Suddenly a dark shape slipped over the hills, heading toward them. "We're saved!"

Doug tensed and touched her shoulder. "Hide behind the cactus, and keep her quiet!"

Sensing his fear, she obeyed as they stayed at the roadside to watch the two vehicles approach. Their headlights illuminated them as Bobby gripped Doug's arm.

"Finally, help is coming!" he said excitedly.

"You don't know that!" he hissed, shaking his head. "Let me do the talking!"

Bobby stared at him as if he was crazy. "What, you think it's _them?_"

"We don't know who it is!"

"Those are army trucks, Doug—see their camouflage?"

He peered nervously into the darkness, studying the trucks. "We had a car accident—don't say anything about anything else," he ordered, glancing toward Brenda to be sure that she heard him. She nodded as Bobby ran to the edge of the road and began to wave his arms. Almost immediately the engine noise decreased, and their clutches ground down through the gears.

"Hey! Over here! Help us!" Bobby cried, jumping up and down while Doug stayed close.

The trucks finally stopped a few yards from where they stood. For a moment silence reigned.

"What's the trouble, son?" a deep voice called out.

Brenda shivered, clutching Catherine close and praying she would not cry out.

A flashlight shone on Bobby's face and then switched to Doug's, but he squinted as if in pain, turning his head away.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Car accident," Bobby explained, taking Doug's arm in support. "He's hurt pretty bad, sir."

Doors opened and booted feet started toward them. Sinking back into the shadows, she waited and watched.

"My name is Doug Bukowski," she heard him pant, "…this is my brother-in-law Robert."

"Bukowski?" the driver drawled as men surrounded them. There were at least dozen of them, all dressed in uniform. "Where you from?"

"We've been stranded out here for days," Bobby informed them, nodding back toward the place they'd left behind. "The rest of us didn't survive."

One of the men took Doug's arm. "Sir, you look like you're going to pass out—why don't you come with me? I'm a medic—"

"I want to see identification," he replied, standing his ground.

Finally the driver opened his door and got out, coming over to Doug and taking out his wallet. He shone the light on it while he studied Doug's face. "Our unit is from Fort Mann, over in the next county. We got word of a family reported missing, and when the locals gave up we kept up looking."

"They were looking in the wrong place," Doug said tightly, swaying slightly.

"Insisted they'd searched everywhere—earlier today the driver of a semi reported seeing smoke, like explosion had gone off."

"Who reported us missing?" Doug wanted to know.

"Man with the same name as yours," the driver stated. "Said you had a wireless phone with you."

"It's dead," Doug stated with a touch of sarcasm, motioning for her to come out of hiding. "My daughter and sister-in-law are joining us now."

The driver glanced around, spotting them coming up to the pavement. "You're wise to hide them," he said respectfully, nodding to his men. "If you don't mind we'd like to check you all out, just to be on the safe side. After that we'll escort you to base—"

"I'd rather we went to a local hospital," Doug choked, "but thank you anyway."

"Base is closer, and our facility is much better equipped," the medic stated calmly. When Doug nodded, they turned toward the other vehicle.

"Come out of the cold," the driver urged, following them toward the medical vehicle. He noded to Bobby. "God only knows what creatures might be lurking out here in the dark."

"You have no idea," Bobby said under his breath, putting a hand on her shoulder as he followed them toward the other truck.

"Ladies first," Doug stated, his voice catching on a wheeze. Brenda studied him warily, noting the tight grip he kept at his middle.

"Steady there," the medic ordered, taking his other arm. "Help me get them in the van."

As they approached it Doug stumbled and they caught him before he fell, gripping him tightly. They steadied him but his head fell forward and he collapsed between them.

"Doug!" she gasped, rushing toward him as they gently sat him on the edge of the van. Without further word he was gently lifted inside and settled him on a gurney. She gripped Catherine tight, but she began to fuss as she stretched toward him.

"Pulse is erratic and weak," the medic called to the others. "Get the oxygen on him while I check his pressure. Probably has broken ribs, maybe a ruptured spleen."

"Please, let us stay with him," she pleaded, noting how his eyes fluttered to stay open. He moaned and tried to sit up.

"Just you and the baby," the medic ordered, nodding to Bobby. "Ride up front and give us room to work?"

"Yes sir," Bobby answered, touching Brenda's arm. "I'll be fine—make sure they take care of him. He's all we got now."

She nodded, taking the hand extended to her and climbing in. "He needs to see his daughter," she explained, making her way toward him. Seating herself at his shoulder, she leaned closer and touched his brow, which was extremely hot. "We're here, Doug—Catherine and me."

He glanced up at her, his eyes not quite focusing. She didn't know if it was because of his condition or the fact that they had taken his glasses away.

"I'm going to get an IV into him," the medic told her as he finished injecting a huge needle into Doug's upper arm. "This is a combination of antibiotics and painkillers—what happened to him in the accident? Did he injure this side?" he asked as he moved Doug's arm away and prodded him. He grunted in pain and turned his head, where it fell limply upon the pillow. "He's out."

"Doug," she breathed, clutching his right hand. "I think he broke some ribs—he was pretty well beaten up. His shoulder is bad too."

At that news one of the others brought scissors close and cut open his shirt. Peeling it back, he swabbed the badly bruised and cut skin, and the men glanced up at the same time. "This man was beaten, not thrown by an accident," she was informed. But Doug had told them to say nothing about what really happened, and that is what she did.

"Look at his hand," the other assistant warned, tossing away the rope binding. He lifted it onto a small pillow and slid out a metal pan which held instruments and gauze. "Someone chopped off his fourth finger, and half of the third."

She groaned, turning away from the gruesome sight. "You have a lot of explaining to do, miss," the medic in charge warned, glancing up at her before returning to his work. "I have to report this to the lieutenant."

She nodded. "Just take good care of him," she croaked, ignoring the IV placed in her own arm. "He's been through hell."

"I can see that," the man next to her stated. "What's your call sir?"

"I want a surgical suite made ready—we'll get a CT scan and prep him for Dr. Hall."

"Ruptured spleen?"

The medic nodded. "It's a given, I'd say," he agreed, glancing meaningfully at her. "The baby's fine, miss, and so are you. Whatever you all are hiding, it's best we know, for his sake."

She stared down at Doug, her eyes filling with tears that slid out from her eyes. She coughed and started to weep. "We lost our parents and sister—his wife," she cried softly. "He's all we have now."

"Well he sure wanted you all safe, before he finally gave in to his pain," the medic said soberly. He finished suturing up the long gash in his shoulder and covered it. Cleaned up, Doug looked even worse now that she could see the extent of his injuries.

"We need to stay close, in case he wakes up," she said, wiping her eyes and nodding to Catherine.

"He's going to drugged and out of it for at least a few days, especially if his spleen has to come out."

"But he'll know it, if we're kept apart."

The man wiped his brow, taking a rest from his work. "All right—I'll see what I can do."

She nodded, taking Doug's hand in hers and holding it tight. "Thank you."


	2. Chapter 2 The Base

_**Chapter 2 The Base**_

_**Colonel Greene's Office, Fort Mann **_

Hank Lawson and Matthew Smits stood at attention, covertly watching their superior officer pace stiffly before them. For the past half hour he'd interrogated them about the people brought in, and it was now nearly midnight. They had both heard about last month's incident when four men sent out to find the missing scientists had returned with nothing and also been detained half the day. And their disappearance had been in an area within a 50 mile radius of tonight's location—only this time there were survivors. He felt the burning acid eating at his stomach from the stress of the past few hours, unable to help wondering if the two incidents could be related.

Suddenly the colonel stopped pacing and turned abruptly to face them. His expression was hard, and he blew out a sharp breath from between his teeth. "I want what happened tonight held in the utmost confidentiality, gentlemen—no word of anything except to the head medical staff, you hear me?"

Hank nodded once, straightening his back even more. "Yes Sir!" he answered the same time Smits did.

The colonel eyed them a moment then glanced down at his desktop, shuffling the papers atop his open file. Unfortunately neither of them could see over the books at the edge of his desk for a clue of what was in the file.

"I want a full report by 18:00 hours," he emphasized, looking up to knife them with a feral stare. "And not a word of this to anyone else—understood?"

"Yes Sir," Hank answered, trying to conceal his alarm. For it was obvious that something had gone horribly wrong. Maybe they would never know what or how.

"Fine—you're dismissed," he growled, snapping the file closed and tucking it under his arm. "Now let's all try to get some sleep."

"Yes, Sir," they replied, letting him precede them out into the hall. "Good night, Sir."

They eyed each other as they started down the hall, listening to the colonel's steps follow until the juncture of the officer's corridor. Continuing back toward the medical wing, they walked briskly back to the ambulance, still needing to clean it up before they were finished.

"What do you think?" Smits said under his breath as they turned the corner and started the long walk toward the ICU ward.

"I think something's rotten in Denmark," he murmured, shaking his head. "Beats me."

"I head they didn't even find the vehicle, last time," Smits added. "But now we've got four survivors, one of them a baby no less!"

"The girl looked pretty beat up—I've never had a double rape victim before," he said quietly, glancing at Smits.

"I'm not sure her story checks out," he answered. "She looked pretty shaken, but she's lying about Bukowski—he's not her husband."

Hank eyed him cynically. "I don't know, he was looking at her with real concern."

"But she wasn't wearing a ring," Smits said in a low voice, exhaling a tense breath. "She signed for his surgery but had a guilty look about the whole thing."

"You know they're going to search for the survivors in the morning," Hank sighed tiredly, nodding to the ICU nurse on duty as they approached the desk. "He still in surgery?"

"Yes he is," the middle aged woman replied in a bored tone. "It'll be another couple of hours for the hand."

"He have a splenectomy?" Smits checked as he signed the forms.

"Yes, though it was a small tear."

"Well better to be on the safe side," he replied, shoving the clipboard onto the desk. "What about the girl?"

"She barely made it through the exam and evidence harvesting…we administered the pill so she'll be feeling it for a few days. Baby's already in the nursery—she checked out fine."

"Where's the brother?"

"He's been escorted to his room already."

Hank leaned over the counter, eyeing the charts. "Was it a double rape?" he asked solemnly.

The nurse nodded. "As far as we can tell."

"Go easy on her—the husband him too," Smits interjected, surprising Hank. He eyed him with curiosity, but Smits ignored him. "They've all been through hell and come out the other side. I've never seen such a traumatized bunch in all my years."

"We'll take good care of them," he was assured.

He smiled and slapped the top of the counter. "Good—we're off to clean up—coming, Hank?"

"Sure," he answered as they turned to leave, "but let's hurry it up—I'm beat."

"And we still have paperwork due," Smits moaned.

"Sure makes you wonder what's really going on out there," Hank stated while they started to clean the gurney and replenish their supplies.

"I think the Department of Energy is going to be hearing from the Colonel real soon…"

_**Brenda lifted Catherine**_ from the changing table, nodding to the nurse who stood over the three newborn residents. "Thanks, Tina," she called, meeting her gaze over Catherine's head, "for everything."

The young woman smiled, glancing at Catherine's drooping eyes. "Anytime—she ready for her nap?"

"I think so—we read two books, and I think it helped calm her down," she answered, going to her side. Trying to ignore the cramps still plaguing her, she watched her finish recording each baby's vitals on the charts.

"Still in a lot of pain?" Tina asked without looking up.

"Not as much," she admitted, pulling Catherine back from stretching toward the other babies. "No, sweetie—they're too little to play with you."

Tina chucked Catherine under her chin. "I'll walk you over—give it a few more days," she said quietly. "Just be thankful it's purging all that filth out. Before you know it, you'll feel yourself again, physically that is."

She shuddered, trying not to about the morning after pill and what may have been had she not taken it. Although it was standard procedure for rape victims, she hated the way it made her feel. Her nerves were shot and for the most part she couldn't seem to control herself. "I think I'm crying a little less," she admitted.

"Hormones!" Tina breathed, shaking her head. "They get you one way or another, young or old.."

Back at the nurses' station she turned to face her. "This was not how I envisioned my summer vacation," she joked, noting Tina's frown her.

"Don't rush the grieving, Brenda—everyone does it differently. It's healthy, in a twisted sort of way."

"Bobby won't even go there," she complained, thinking of her brother's excitement at touring the base and spending time with the men.

"Your brother and brother-in-law are no exception," Tina reassured her. "Any news on the latter?"

"Still unconscious," she sighed in frustration, carrying Catherine into the nap room. "He's got to recover from his injuries, too."

"He's going to have it the hardest," Tina predicted, looking down at Catherine with sympathy. "They say losing a spouse is the worst, next to losing a child. And he almost lost both of them."

"I can't imagine how he survived, and brought her back," Brenda marveled. "To look at him, you wouldn't think he had it in him."

Tina looked up. "Why do you say that?"

She shrugged. "Doug was always so easygoing. That's what my sister loved about him…she could wrap him around her little finger."

Tina put a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, honey…you must have been very close to her."

"We were, for sisters," she admitted with a smirk. "Oh we had all the jealous arguments and fights, but we got closer when she married Doug."

"Gave you some space, didn't it?"

Brenda nodded. "We were really just starting to relate as women, not just sisters."

Tina sighed and they saw Catherine's eyes close. "We better leave this little one to her beauty rest."

Once out in the hall, Tina wanted to know what she would do next.

"Probably read my counseling materials," she said dejectedly. "Though they don't seem to deal with my questions."

Tina eyed her. "What questions?"

She reddened and looked down. "It's just that…I can't imagine ever…you know—"

"About making love again?" Tina said gently.

She nodded, relieved that she didn't have to say it. "I'm afraid that I'm too dead inside…too angry or too afraid."

Unable to express her deepest fear, she closed her eyes. _What if I'm ruined for life? Never able to let a man touch me again? Or that I'll lash out in anger when he tries?_

"Has anyone bothered you, since you've been here?"

"No…well yeah…a few guys started to flirt; I wanted to smack them," she admitted.

Tina took her hands in hers. "They don't know what happened to you, sweetie; and women are scarce here. You are a lovely young lady, too my dear."

"But flirting is pretty innocent, which is why I don't understands why it bothers me so much now…I used to welcome it," she said, feeling humiliated all over again.

Tina led the way into the hall, checking to make sure no one was about. "Brenda…I have to be honest with you. Though you have all these feelings—anger, resentment or fear— they will fade with time. And when you're ready to make love again you will need a very gentle and patient man, and be sure that you love him. Even more importantly, he has to love you. You might not even know if you're ready, but he got to sense that and respect it, whatever you decide. You understand?"

She nodded, embarrassed and broken and yet thankful for this new friend. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good—now I'll stop before I embarrass you anymore," Tina promised, patting her back.

"I'm here!" a voice called from down the hall. Sharon was coming toward them, waving to Brenda. "Sorry I'm late!"

"That's the second time, kiddo!" Tina scolded, heading back to her desk. The other nurse breezed in after looking in on Catherine. "Good—she's at her usual naptime. Just keep her on a regular schedule and we'll all be happy."

Brenda let them catch up on what needed to be done on the next shift, going to the door to blow Catherine a kiss. As she stood there watching her sleep she was overcome with an intense longing for her sister that she bowed her head and tried praying. She needed strength—Lynnie was gone, Bobby was no help, she had killer cramps and Doug needed to wake up. He'd been out for three days since his surgeries, fighting infections and whatever terrors still haunted him. Then even had to restrain him, for fear that he would get up and injure himself. Still, Catherine needed him and she needed his help with her. The baby missed him so much, in her mother's absence. Even though she took her every day to see her father, it was only for 15 minute intervals. And it didn't help much when he lay there unmoving and unaware. She felt overwhelmed and intimidated by the future, and until he woke up she had nobody but Tina to talk to. Somehow that just wasn't enough.

Gathering her sweatshirt close she went out into the hall, unsure of what to do next. Catherine was going to nap at least two hours, and she didn't want to be alone. At least Bobby shared a double room with her and she wasn't alone at night, but during the day she just waited. In their debriefing they'd been warned not to say anything to anyone. Once Doug was up to it they were told to expect group meetings once he was debriefed, but no other details concerning their future had been offered. She felt anxious and nervous and wanted to go home. Yet when she thought about going into that big empty house without her parents she shuddered.

Suddenly overcome with the strongest urge to see Doug, she hesitated to go without Catherine. But she needed to see him, and if he wasn't awake she needed to talk to him anyway. According to the nurses, people in comas or the unconscious could sense and hear what was going on around them. Maybe it was better he was asleep, she rationalized, for she had so much to tell him she couldn't bear it. He would help her face the future, and he would be responsible about it, not like her brother. Bobby was just too young, and didn't understand or care. So, unable to help herself, she headed for the ICU.

"Wait up!" Tina called out, startling her. She turned and stopped, watching the nurse rush toward her. When she caught up, Brenda looked at her in confusion.

"I thought you had left for the day."

"No, my hubby's bowling his league so I'm on my own," she waved, starting off down the hall.

"Fine, but I'm not sure I'm good company right now," Brenda admitted.

Tina leaned close. "Are you going to see _him_?"

Turning to stare at her bold and husky question, Brenda kept up a pace that Tina jogged to keep up with. "Why do you think I would do that—Catherine's asleep."

"You're going to see him anyway, aren't you?" Tina whispered, smiling like the cat that ate the mouse.

Brenda shook her head. "I just need to see him—to talk to him, even if he doesn't answer."

"That's perfectly natural, so why do you look guilty?"

"I don't know—I just need to see him! I'm worried about him, why he hasn't woken up yet."

"You told me he had a concussion, and a splenectomy," Tina reasoned. "Not to mention the trauma he must have been through—"

"It's selfish of me, but Bobby's no help and I need someone responsible to help me deal with everything that has to be done! Then again, if he wakes up and Catherine's not there he'll worry and get himself all worked up."

"Let me come with you—you know, for emotional support. I know one of the nurses over there. She's very tight lipped, but maybe I can find out something about his condition."

Brenda sighed in frustration. "I wish I could tell you what really happened—"

"No, don't—we'll both get in trouble."

Brenda looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Do you have some other reason for wanting to see him, rather than find out his condition?"

"Of course I do—I want to meet Catherine's father, since I'm one of her caregivers," Tina whispered. "But you know I wouldn't mind checking him out—you value my opinion, don't you?"

Brenda laughed nervously, not sure she liked the direction of the conversation. "About what?"

Tina smiled radiantly. "You know."

Realization dawned on her in that moment."Don't be getting any ideas about Doug and me—he loved my sister very much! They had a good marriage," she insisted, ignoring her nagging doubts about Lynnie mothering him too much.

"I'm sure they did, but right now you are as close to Mom as Catherine's got," she insisted. "And that will naturally place you and Doug in the same sphere of influence."

Brenda considered the truth of her words. "You're right, of course."

"Although I admit I'm curious about what you all suffered, it's more than that…I just want to see how you interact with each other, for Catherine's sake, and for yours—I don't want you to get hurt—"

"Doug would never hurt me," she said with certainty, not sure she liked the hint.

"Brenda, you're in a very vulnerable position right now, that's all."

"That's all?"

Tina nodded. "And maybe I can help you with Catherine, you know, bring her by to see him once in a while to give you some time to or with your brother."

"I'm fine, Tina, really," she stated. They were approaching the ICU and she kept her attention on the desk they were approaching.

"You know it wouldn't be a terrible thing if you two fell in love and got married," Tina stated. "Sort of a heavenly form of justice, don't you think?"

Brenda stared at her in surprise, noting her irresistible smile. "You're such a matchmaker," she scolded, giving her friend credit for seeing the situation in that light, at least about the justice part.

Tina sighed with pleasure. "It is my greatest aspiration…"

Telling herself to face reality, Brenda shook her head. "We can dream all we want, but that isn't the real world, Tina. Doug watched Lynnie die, held her head in his hands as she took her last gasp of breath."

"Dear God…"

"They were only married a little over a year when they had Catherine, and now Lynnie's gone. No, no more matchmaking ideas—it's too strange and complicated."

"It may not seem that way in the long run—think about it! Who's going to take care of Catherine when he has to go back to work?"

"He owns his own store," she answered, watching her friend's expression change. "That's wonderful—so he can take her with him to work?"

"I—don't know," she answered, remembering how had helped him at the store.

"Well there's always daycare."

She shook her head. "I can't see him leaving her with strangers," she stated, "not after losing her and fighting so hard to get her back."

"Then what will you be doing?"

"I have to finish senior year," she said absently, not ready to make any plans herself.

"You're a college student? Then you can help them out?"

"Yes, I suppose I could," she thought aloud. The vision of doing that seemed safe and even enjoyable. "I could deal with that."

"Brenda, your little family of three has gone through something horrible and traumatic—it's obvious. But even more importantly you're going to have to lean on each other to get through it."

She nodded. "I know…"

"The more you stay together, the better. And whether your brother knows it or not he's going to need you too."

She sighed dejectedly. "Bobby isn't dealing with anything right now."

"Give him time—you've both lost your parents, but that puts you in a caregiver role for your brother. Doug is in a very different place, though—he's lost his wife, and he's got to find a way to be both father and mother for Catherine. He's going to need you."

"I feel like it's all up to me," Brenda shuddered, lowering her voice now that they stood outside the ICU. Here she couldn't help feeing talking about Doug's future while he lay unconscious in the next room. She looked into Tina's compassionate eyes and felt close to tears.

"It is up to you, in a way," she said gently, "but you can do it, Brenda. I wish I could help, but once you leave here we'll be far apart. But you can call me anytime, day or night, whenever you want to talk."

Brenda nodded. "Thank you, I might just do that."

"I won't tolerate a no—here's my number..."

She took out a piece of paper and jotted it down, slipping it into her hand.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Tina," Brenda admitted. "You're a good friend."

"Now let's get ready to go in there, together—when we leave we'll talk more."

"Okay."

They approached the desk and Brenda nodded to the nurse, signing her name and looking up. "How is he?" she asked, recognizing the unfriendly woman Tina greeted by name.

"About the same," she shrugged, eyeing Tina. "Fancy meeting you here…"

"Paula."

"You want to go in with her?"

"May I?"

"I don't have a problem with it, but only for 15 minutes."

"May I see his chart?"

"Sorry—only family."

"Has he had a Neuro consult?"

"They're sending up someone this afternoon," she answered, glancing at Brenda's worried face. "I will say that he's stable; we just got the fever under control a few hours ago, so he should be improving."

Brenda tensed. "A neurologist? Is that a bad sign?"

Paula waved dismissively. "It's routine in his type of case; now when you go in, make sure you don't put on a light."

When they entered the darkened room Brenda had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with cramps. Slowly approaching the bed, she was nervous about coming without the baby, though glad for Tina's company. Going to the far side of the bed she curled her hands around the railing at his side, hating the way they kept his ankles and wrist restrained. The injured hand was heavily casted and held up in a traction device to reduce the swelling. She glanced at his bruised and cut face, his pale color and heavily taped ribs. The huge bandage at his left side covered several tubes and wires that were draped across his upper chest. She reached out and drew up the blanket in the air conditioned room, thinking he must be freezing.

Tina was looking at his chart and glanced up at her horrified expression. With a pang of obvious guilt she slid it back into place and gave the patient her attention. Coming up on his other side, she studied him carefully, shooting Brenda an accusatory glance.

"What?" she whispered, though Tina held up a finger to indicate she'd explain later. Then they both gazed back at his battered face.

His skin was dark with bruises and riddled with sutures and steri strips. While Tina looked him over more closely, she had to admit that his breathing sounded better. She glanced at his hand, but only the remaining fingertips peeked out from its thick and plastered edges. Another glanced at Tina revealed her eyes to be moist.

"Doug," she said softly, reaching out to gently touch his head where there were no apparent cuts or bruises. "It's Brenda—I've brought one of the nurses with me. Her name's Tina—she's helping me take care of Catherine, who's enjoying her nap right now. So we thought we'd come see how you're feeling…we miss you, Bobby and I. Please wake up, Doug."

When Tina rushed out of the room she glanced at his sleeping face, telling herself she was imagining that he had turned his head slightly toward her. She would have felt it, wouldn't she?

"I'll be right back," she told him softly, then went out into the hall. At the door to the lounge she saw her standing with her back to the hall.

Motioning to the nurse that she would be back, she went after her friend. "Tina—what's wrong?"

Tina went further into the room, keeping her back to her. "Give me a minute," she asked, blowing her nose. Then she turned to face her, her expression trouble. "You could have warned me."

"What did his chart say, Tina?" she worried, her throat clenching in fear.

Tina's face relaxed. "It's not that, he's coming along, but you didn't warn me how young he is, and how attractive! Here I was picturing a much older man, more conservative looking and voila he's a genuine hunk, even with all the bruises and lacerations!"

Brenda gaped at her in surprise. "Tina—" she warned "I can't see him as a hunk—he's my brother-in-law!"

"I suppose you could look at him that way, if forced to—but what on earth happened to him?"

"You know I can't say, Tina."

"Well he looks worse than I had imagined—and what happened to his hand? It can't just be a bad break—"

"They cut off two of his fingers," she choked, hating even saying it.

"Who did? And how—"

Brenda took her arm and walked her to the corner of the room where the tv would drown them out. "Catherine was kidnapped and he went after them. By some miracle he got her back—but that's what it cost him."

"He went by himself?"

"Yes—he wouldn't have risked Bobby and me getting involved."

Tina breathed out a shaky breath and glanced in the direction of his room. "Well, he's a hero then—that's all there is to it."

Brenda nodded, and they slowly started back toward the room. "So…you think he's hot?"

Tina snorted at what she must think was an understatement. "With that face and build? How old is he, anyway—25?"

"27," she corrected.

"They married young then," she mused, shaking her head. "Our poor baby girl—no wonder she misses her daddy," she sighed as they went back into the room. "I bet he's great with her," she whispered as they let the door close behind them.

Brenda's eyes flooded with tears, and Tina hugged her while she cried yet again. When she was finally spent she drew back and wiped her eyes. Tina's mascara was running down her cheeks but she glanced toward the patient. "We've got to control ourselves—what if he wakes up and sees us?"

She straightened and swiped at her eyes. "He won't— I can't bear to see him worry."

"Have you two been close?"

She shrugged. "We joke around a lot, but no, not really—and my father hasn't been very accepting of him."

"Why not?"

"I think Dad was jealous of him taking my sister away from him," she realized for the first time. "But it was more than that—they're very different. But Dad used to put him down all the time."

"What about your mom?"

"She loved Doug to pieces; he lost his own mother to cancer when he was a teenager. They had something special, Mom and Doug, and Lynnie of course."

Tina gazed toward the patient and exhaled slowly. "Well he's blessed to have you, honey." She moved toward the bed and touched Doug's good hand. "It was nice to meet you, Doug—next time I visit I expect you to look at me for a change, okay?" she teased.

Brenda walked her out. "Thanks for coming with me."

"Thanks for letting me; now you stay with him and keep talking. Wait and see, he'll wake up just to get in on the conversation. See you tomorrow, God willing."

She watched her Tina disappeared around the adjoining corridor, then went back to his room. Quietly pulling up a chair she sat close to the bed and studied his face. Beneath his lids his eyes seemed to be moving rapidly, as if he was having a dream. When his breathing accelerated she reached for his hand and held it while he groaned softly. She sensed him reliving whatever battles he'd fought, but after a few minutes he seemed to grow calm and his breathing evened out. She kept his hand between hers, gently holding it for safekeeping. He moved his head in her direction but his eyes remained closed.

"It's me Doug," she said, lightly stroking his knuckles with her thumb. "Please wake up…we miss you…The nurse says your fever's broken, so you should be getting stronger now. I'm sorry they had to operate on you; someone had to sign the permission forms…"

Allowing herself to consider Tina's comments about his appearance, she took a moment to study him objectively as a man, not just as her brother-in-law.

His hair was dark blond and fell a little below collar line in the back, and he wore it parted to one side. Now it was greasy and dirty, for in consideration of his concussion and the many lacerations in his scalp no one had washed it. She moved her gaze down over the dark bruising and cuts on his face, noting the high cheekbones and strong line of his jaw. His mouth was wide, his lips well formed and masculine. She remembered his smile, which could take your breath away and averted her gaze to the heavily bandaged shoulder. His neck was strong, his throat cut and bruised where the veins bulged against a slight sheen of moisture. His shoulders were well formed, his chest muscled as beautifully as his upper arms beneath all the marred surfaces. Over his head beeped the soft calibrator measuring his IV drip, and the monitors showed his blood pressure low at 110/70. She studied the slight rise and fall of his chest with a lump in her throat, mourning the loss of the sound of his clear deep voice and piercing gaze.

She tried to remember the Doug who joked around with her and teased Bobby, but never to the extent to mock or insult. A memory of his lips forming a kiss when he looked at Catherine flitted across her mind, as did the way he held Lynnie in his arms and bent his head to sample her lips. With a will stronger than she knew she tore her gaze away from him and got up to stand over the bed, trying to focus upon something other than his presence. Over the end table by the bed she and Bobby had taped get well cards, making sure they bought several of them just to help cheer him up when he awoke. She had even held Catherine's fist around a few colored crayons to guide her hand in drawing flowers and the sun. Realizing that he wouldn't be able to see them easily, she gently tore them all off and pressed them against the wall to his side where he could better see them. Then she turned to face him, wondering if his head had been turned in her direction before she moved; but she couldn't remember.

"Catherine's still napping, but when you wake and get better we can all visit in the greenhouse café—it's nice there and you'd love the coffee—it's strong, just like you like it."

His uplifted arm moved slightly, and she was sure it must be extremely uncomfortable for him to have it suspended at that angle. She wondered what he would do when he woke up, probably demand to have it lowered. She glanced at the restraints at his ankles and moved to unfasten them. His fever had broken the nurse said, so there was no need in her mind to restrain him. She imagined him shouting about such ridiculous treatment and yelling for Catherine to be brought to him. And then she smiled.

"I miss you," she told him with a whisper. "We have so much to talk about," she said gently, her eyes filling with tears as she began to pace before him. "But we can talk about all the good things we can remember, before this happened. So you have to wake up. Catherine will be up in a little while, and I'll bring her to see you. She misses you so much, it's really funny how she's trying to say Daddy…"

She switched her attention from the nurse's wave that it was okay to stay and glanced back at him. To her amazement he was looking at her, though his eyes were half open. In the dim lighting their color looked very dark. She took a few steps closer and gripped the railing at his side.

"You're awake," she croaked, smiling with relief. "Oh Doug, I'm so glad—Catherine will be overjoyed when she sees you!"

He kept staring at her, and after a moment he swallowed hard. Wondering if he recognized her, she set aside that fear and picked up the water pitcher. Pouring water into the plastic cup, she capped it and stuck the straw in, extending it toward him. He pulled his gaze from her face and glanced with interest at it, then back up at her. Leaning closer, she touched his lips with it and nearly wept for joy when he drank about a third of the contents. All the while his eyes probed hers, even when she pulled it away.

"Good, but not too much," she said gently, turning to set it back on the table.

"Bren—," she heard him rasp, and turned abruptly back to him. His eyes were dark and fluid, then she noticed him trying to touch the hand she rested on the railing. Releasing it, she took his hand and leaned closer.

"Are you in pain? Can I get the nurse for you?" she worried.

His eyes searched hers as he squeezed her hand, but not in his usual grip. She reached up to gently rest her palm against his forehead, but it was cool. All the while his eyes held her captive as he stared up at her.

"What is it, Doug?" she whispered, tears filling her own eyes.

He swallowed hard, parting his lips to touch them with the tip of his tongue. She noticed how dry and cracked they looked. "Lynne…" he rasped, closing his eyes momentarily in obvious frustration.

At the sound of her sister's name she choked up, tears spilling from her eyes.

"Lynne's…dead," he moaned, his grip tightening on her hand. She saw the trickle of moisture leak from the corner of his eyes and disappear into his heavy whiskers. Reaching down, she gently wiped them from his cheek, praying that she wasn't hurting him.

"I…I know," she choked, blindly feeling for the release on the railing. Finding it, she pinched it and slid the railing down. Then she touched her temple to his and closed her eyes. Releasing his hand, she cupped the opposite side of his face and felt him shudder. "Oh Doug…"

"She's…dead," he croaked, a sob breaking in his chest.

Reaching gently over him, she laid her fingers along his shoulder and gently kissed his cheek, finally resting her head on the pillow next to his. His hand gripped her arm tight as he choked back sobs of grief.

"Don't," she soothed, lifting her head to look into his eyes. "You'll hurt your incision…they had to take your spleen out because of internal bleeding. I had to sign for you…I'm sorry...but you have to be careful and rest."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "No…" he groaned, gripping her hand.

She held onto him as he wept, and when she felt him begin to relax she kept her cheek pressed against his temple, curling her hand around his jaw.

"We'll get through this," she choked, gently stroking his hair back and making a mental note to see if she could wash it for him, when he was up to it. The nurses certainly weren't going to do it for

Finally exhausting himself, he flung his good arm over his face and took a few deep breaths. Aft a while she touched his arm and gently drew it down.

"I'm going to stay a little longer, if that's okay," she told him.

He nodded, keeping his eyes closed. "Thanks," he croaked.

She kissed his temple. "We can cry anytime we want, and we can remember the good things. But you have to get well as fast as you can—you have a baby girl who is very anxious to see you again. She's trying to talk, Doug, isn't that amazing?"

He exhaled a shuddering breath and opened his eyes, gazing up at her. "I'm sorry, Bren…"

"Don't be—when you're up to it you can help me when I cry and scream, which I've been doing a lot," she told him. "We're in this together, all of us."

He closed his eyes again, and she sensed the exhaustion in him. "I'm sorry about the traction in your arm."

He swallowed again. "I'm sorry…so tired…"

She touched his brow. "Don't be—you rest."

_c. 2010 by Christine Levitt_


	3. Chapter 3 The Awakening

_**Chapter 3 The Awakening**_

Surfacing rapidly from the dark realm of his dreams, Doug opened his eyes to find himself alone in the dim hospital room. He glanced toward the window blinds beyond which the glow of fluorescent light shone, trying to banish the nightmares still echoing through his mind. Forcing his breathing to slow, he slid a tentative hand up his taped ribs to somehow ease the pain. The simple act of breathing had been something he'd always taken for granted, but no longer. Panting with shallow breaths, he gauged the best depth of his efforts and found a way to mange that particular pain. Shaking off the cobwebs of sleep he then focused upon the next area of discomfort and turned his head to study his left hand. No longer recognizable he stared blankly at the heavy cast and thick padding, wondering why it throbbed so mercilessly. As he shifted upward against the mattress fiery knives of pain dug into his side, yet another reminder of his journey to hell and back.

Shifting his gaze to the ceiling he shifted his legs, surprised to find them free of restraints. He lifted his head only to be assaulted by a wave of dizziness and pain that pressed him back down where he surrendered, panting and clutching his side. At least sleep granted him some temporary relief from his physical pain, but the void in inside him yawned wide and swallowed a host of darkness that was almost a greater torment. Shoving aside the vision of Lynne's wide-eyed blank stare, he groaned in misery and concentrated on a plan to make it through his waking hours. As the dizziness and nausea which accompanied it began to fade they were replaced by a surprising rush of hunger, so he reached for the small tied to his railing and pressed the button, daring a glance at the table to his side. Water and cup stood far out of reach, and as he waited for help he gazed up at the wall, studying the strange assortment of cards and drawings taped there. A faint scent of flowers drifted to his nostrils, seeming to originate from that side of his pillow. And then he remembered.

_Brenda…_

She'd been to see him, he realized, but she'd come alone. Battling the wave of panic for Catherine's safety, he reminded himself that Brenda had reassured him the nursery staff was taking excellent care of his baby, and he forced himself to calm down. With an intense longing to see her soon, he focused upon the day when he could get back on his feet and leave this place. She needed as normal a life as possible now, and it was up to him to see that she got it. He had to find a way to go on and put her needs before anyone else's. As her father he would do whatever it took to provide them. And never again would anyone be able to snatch her away from him. He prayed for wisdom and strength, finally surrendering to the fact that he needed help from above if they were ever going to make it without Lynne. And when he finished praying he felt a gentle blanket of peace drape over him, soothing his mind and filling his spirit. It surprised him, getting a prayer answered, though his upbringing had been centered on prayer and miraculous provision. Which was why, when he lifted his head enough to see across the darkened room, he was shocked to see a dark form slouched in the chair opposite the bed.

Blinking in surprise he tried to see who it was, but his glasses were long gone. Could it be a guard, he thought with a surge of resentment. Even though this was a military base, surely he was not the one who needed to be watched. Helplessly unable to keep his head up, he gripped the railing of his bed and nevertheless tried again, telling himself that maybe he had a visitor instead. With that thought he managed to keep his head off the mattress as he stared at its unmoving shape. The door opened, emitting bright light that blinded him and drilled a shaft of pain into his skull from which he averted his gaze. Lifting a hand against it, he tried to sit up despite his pain.

"I wouldn't if I were you," a voice warned. It was a voice he'd heard before, and he eased himself back down as the door shut out the light again. "But it's good to see you're finally awake," his male nurse stated as he came closer and reached overhead to change his IV.

"Where's my daughter?" he choked, gazing up at the big young man, thinking that if he had to fight him he'd no doubt lose.

"She'll be here later, as usual—how's the pain on a scale of 1 to 10—10 being the worst?"

"Where am I?" he gasped, too distracted by pain to assign numbers.

"Base hospital," he was told as the nurse walked to the other side of the bed. He picked up the pitcher and poured him a cup of water, and Doug found himself suddenly too eager for that drink to really care. With cup securely in hand he drank greedily before it was eased from his grip. "Not too much, man."

He lay back, exhausted as his right finger was pinched with something.

"Your pressure's a little high, so my guess is it's close to a 10. I don't think you remember my first introduction but I'm Alex, your nurse. Your baby has come to see you very day since you arrived, sometimes three times a day. Maybe today you can reward her efforts with a response."

Doug glanced up at his half smile, in no mood for jokes. "I'll try," he said sarcastically, thinking who was _he_ to criticize his being unconscious?

They were interrupted by a slight snore emanating from the chair across the room, and Doug glanced in that direction. "Who's that?"

Alex jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he recorded something on a clipboard. "_That_ is Sleeping Beauty, your bro-in-law," he answered with a sigh. He set the clipboard down and strolled over to the chair, kicking the sleeper's feet. "Hey Bobby you're missing all the fun," he announced. "Wake up."

Yelping in protest Bobby shot to a sitting position, hands dripping the arms of the chair. "Doug!" he croaked, his voice breaking. Bolting from the chair, he slid across the floor to his bedside, gripping the rail as he beamed down at him. "You finally woke up! Man, you look awful!"

"Thanks," he croaked, eyeing the nurse as he came back to tinker with the metal rack from which his left arm hung. "How long have I been out this time?"

"Three days in the beginning and a whole day since you work up yesterday—now let me lower you arm, nice and easy," he ordered, supporting the weight of the cast. "Oh and just so you know the situation, you've got three cracked ribs and a concussion, had three hours of surgery to have your spleen removed and plastic surgery on your hand not to mention infected lacerations and fevers," he finished, gently lying his arm on a pillow to keep it elevated.

Doug glanced at Bobby, who shrugged. "I had my spleen removed?" he repeated, his mind registering the reason why his side hurt so much.

"You had a tear and some internal bleeding," Alex stated, glancing up, "but it looks like you'll survive after all."

He forced a grin and switched his attention to Bobby. "Can you get Catherine for me?"

"Brenda will bring her as soon as she's ready, don't worry," he answered, eyes on the clock. "I'm supposed to watch you till then."

Alex chuckled at Bobby's whine of complaint and straightened, looking down at Doug. "What did you buzz for?"

"Strangely enough I'm hungry," he answered, deciding not to bother mentioning that he'd eaten nothing since the attack.

"That's a good sign—we'll start you on jello and liquids, which I'll order right now. Anything else?"

"My glasses?"

Alex shook his head. "They were too far gone but the optician's copying them and should have a new pair for you in another day or two."

"Thanks," he answered, glancing back at Bobby. "You have the phone?"

He tensed visibly and met Alex's gaze. "Ah, we've been ordered not to make any calls, Doug," he answered. "Colonel's orders—but your father called and spoke to Brenda to say he's on his way."

"I'll be right back with your food," Alex drawled, leaving them alone.

Doug stared at Bobby in disbelief. "I don't care what some colonel says—we're civilians for God's sake, so could you please get my phone?"

"Don't get all worked up, Doug—you'll get it when they debrief you like they did us," Bobby stated. "Because this is a military base we were told, in no uncertain terms, that we have to obey orders just like everyone else."

Doug lay back frustrated. "This is why I asked for a local hospital," he complained, suddenly tensing. "If they think we're going to let them cover up everything, they're mistaken."

"We've got to play it cool, Doug," Bobby pleaded, glancing toward the door. "Look I've been checking this place out since we got here, and it looks to me that if they want to lock us up and throw away the key they can do it, alright? So for now just play along, at least until you're back on your feet."

"I'm not going to play along!" Doug hissed. "Because of their mess we've lost Lynne and your parents! They're responsible for bombing an entire village of innocent people and not even bothering to take care of the radiation poisoning that turned normal people into mutants!" He could not forget Ruby or the two small children he'd met in the village, feeling the injustice of their circumstances.

"How do you know that?" Bobby whispered, his eyes wild. "We weren't told anything in our meetings—"

"They're not going to admit to something like that, Bobby! Look, even if the Department of Energy was responsible the Army will still back them up. I'm sure they're scrambling for a way to cover it up for another few decades, which I am not about to let them do!"

"Fine, go ahead, but say goodbye to a normal life then!" Bobby hissed, looking scared. "It's bad enough we're orphans now, but who cares as long as we're right!"

Doug stared at him a moment, regretting his outburst. Gripping his side, he weighed the wisdom of Bobby's words. "All right, I'll play along until we're out of here, but don't think for a moment I'm going to let this slide—we don't want anyone else to suffer what we did."

"Ok, ok—just remember that two days ago you were delirious, shouting and thrashing around enough to make them drug you like a zombie and strap you to the bed! They've already decided you're crazy despite the doctor saying it was fever and grief making you that way—"

"I am crazy—why wouldn't I be?" he shot back. "My wife was shot point blank in the head, your mom in the stomach and your Dad was tortured and murdered! Then they kidnapped my baby, planned to eat me for lunch and Catherine for dessert! And that's not all—you should've seen all the cars from their others victims! Don't tell me the government doesn't know anything about it!"

"So what do you want the phone for?" Bobby demanded harshly, glancing toward the door. "You gonna call the cops? Hire a lawyer?"

"No, I'm calling the FBI!"

"Doug the colonel gave strict orders not to disclose anything about what happened until there's a full military investigation. They're doing something about it now, and we have to cooperate if we want to get out of here!"

Eyeing him closely, Doug felt a cold dread settle inside him. They were interrupted by Alex, who came in carrying a tray which he slid onto the table and positioned it before him. Eyeing them with suspicion he uncovered a bowl of jello, opened a juice box and turned back the foil on a small cup of orange colored pudding. "Everything all right?" he said carefully, studying their averted faces.

"Fine," Doug breathed, easing higher against the mattress. Bobby sighed dramatically and stalked over to the window to peek behind the blinds.

"Bon appétit then," he muttered as he headed for the door.

"Wait," Doug called, stopping him. "Can I get a phone in here, please?"

"Sorry, doctor's orders," Alex stated. "Why don't you just enjoy your meal and get your strength back for now. I'm sure the captain will be paying you a visit to answer all your questions soon enough."

"Good idea," Bobby reinforced, not pulling his gaze from beyond the window.

Doug bit his lip and decided to quit for now. Staring suspiciously at the tray, he winced. "You call this food?"

"Uh huh," Alex grinned, "unless you want to suffer intense stomach pains and vomiting."

"Eww," Bobby cringed, shaking himself as he headed back toward the bed. "Although I can't say I'd like some myself."

"You just had abdominal surgery, Mr. Bukowski," the nurse reminded him. "This is what you have to start with, and trust me—you'll regret eating anything else at this point."

"All right," he sighed with resignation, too hungry to argue. "Sorry."

"No problem…just push the button if you need anything else."

Concentrating on the food, he picked up the plastic spoon and tasted the jello, keeping his head turned from the light until the door shut. To his amazement it tasted wonderful, and closing his eyes he savored the taste, tucking into the side of his cheek that wasn't bruised and cut.

"You look like you might actually be enjoying that," Bobby said carefully, watching him from the foot of the bed.

He swallowed and looked up. "I am, even with my throat feeling like two iron hands are gripping it."

"That's from the anesthesia," Bobby stated, reaching for the pudding and looking into the cup to inspect it. "They put a tube or something down your throat—can I have a taste of this?"

"No way," Doug croaked, "not when you can eat normal food—now hand it back. What flavor is it anyway?"

"Butterscotch, I think," Bobby sighed, placing it back on his tray. "You're right, I could go for a bacon cheeseburger right now."

Doug swallowed a fourth cube of jello and glanced up. "You'll never tempt me with that."

"Oh I forgot about the kosher thing," Bobby teased, rolling his eyes.

Doug frowned and at him "It's more of an aversion to eating the flesh of a disgusting animal that eats what it shouldn't." At Bobby's sudden pained expression he set down the empty cup. "Look you don't' have to worry, I'm not offended—eat all the bacon you want, just don't bring it around me?"

Bobby shook his head. "It's not that…"

Doug stared at him suspiciously. "What's wrong?"

"I just remembered something I'd rather forget, about eating what shouldn't be eaten." With that he got up and went to peer out the opposite window, snapping one of the slats up to look out. "I wished to God I could forget…"

"Is there something I don't know, Bobby?" Doug watched him tense visibly, then hand his head low. "What is it?" he asked gently.

"One of them ate Mom's heart," he answered in a small voice. "He dragged her body off when Brenda and I were setting the trap to blow up the trailer…but I caught him doing it."

Doug stared at him in shock, his hand falling to his side. He'd loved his mother-in-law, and the thought of her meeting the fate he barely escaped made him tremble deep inside. Worse, it was the ultimate insult to her memory. "Dear God… I had no idea. I'm sorry..."

"Yeah," Bobby breathed, snapping the blinds back in place and turning. "So am I," he said a bit more shakily. "Thank God Brenda didn't see it."

Doug lay his head back, feeling drained. "Did you share that information with the colonel?"

He nodded. "He didn't say anything—he just stared at me, like he didn't believe me."

Doug held his gaze, allowing himself to journey back to his own experience. "They were going to eat me for dinner, then Catherine for dessert…at one point I woke up in a freezer lying in a tangle of body parts."

Bobby stared at him in horror. "What happened—how did you get out?"

He shook his head. "There wasn't much I could do but scream, kick and beat my fists on the cover. Thankfully it was made of plastic, otherwise I wouldn't be here."

Bobby came up to his side, gripping the bedrail. "Tell me everything, every rotten and horrible detail," he said shakily. "I want to know it all— it's the only thing that'll keep me from wondering if I imagined it all."

"We didn't imagine it, Bobby. But I can't tell you now, not with your sister coming."

"But she'll want to know—"

"She doesn't need to know!" he hissed, glancing at the door. "How did she react to the news about your mother?"

Bobby's gaze faltered. "She ah…ran from the room crying hysterically. Then she threw up. And she didn't even see it."

"See?" Doug pleaded, "you don't have to torment people with the truth."

"But she deserves the truth!"

Doug studied his expression at length. "Only if she insists, and with due warning," he allowed. "So leave it up to her, ok?"

"Okay!" he agreed with obvious reluctance. Then his face crinkled with regret. "I'm sorry, Doug—you have enough to deal with—"

"No, I'm glad you told me. I was wondering what went on while I was gone," he reassured him. "Look we'll deal with all this later, ok?"

"Ok, I know you don't want Brenda to suffer even more than she already has."

"Damn straight I don't."

"I'm sure glad you came back, man," he said, starting to pace the room. "Real glad."

"Yeah me too—now stop pacing, you're making me dizzy," he said irritably, having lost his appetite. "Where is your sister, anyway?"

"She'll be here," he stated, jamming his hands in his pockets and trying not to pace. "When she comes I'm going to walk off all my energy, then maybe get something to eat."

Doug glanced at the butterscotch. "You can have the pudding, if you want."

"No, save it for later," Bobby waved. "I'm sorry I ruined your appetite. And I won't mention the kosher thing again."

"Forget it," he breathed, glancing up at the clock, which was too far away for him to see. "What time is it?"

"Four -thirty," he answered, "any minute now."

Doug breathed in as he much as he could without causing himself pain in an effort to relax. Closing his eyes, he felt drained and exhausted. He heard Bobby's sneakers on the linoleum as he began to pace again. He took a moment to try to envision going outside without the light sending shafts of pain through his head. Yet picturing himself going for a walk with Bobby reminded him of happier times, times he'd never own again. As exhaustion crept over him again he told himself to be grateful for the small things—Catherine was on her way here with Brenda, he was told he would recover, and he'd managed to keep down the bit of food he'd eaten. Beyond that he could not think…not yet.

"Doug?" a soft voice called, waking him so suddenly that he jerked in surprise. Opening his eyes to an even dimmer room, he managed to see the embarrassed smile with which Brenda was looking down at him. Then he noticed soft curls of hair which could only be his daughter's, and looking down into her wide-eyed stare he awoke fully. Lifting his good hand toward her, he felt Brenda guide it to her little shoulder. Feasting his eyes on Catherine's surprised face, he parted his dried and cracked lips toward a smile.

"Hello, sweetheart," he rasped just as she reached up to touch his cheek. Holding her gaze, he watched a smile dawn across her face and glanced up at Brenda in gratitude. Her eyes were full of unshed tears and he felt his own heart close to breaking with emotion. Kissing her baby soft cheek, he closed his eyes and breathed in her sweet scent.

"You fell asleep again," Bobby's voice accused, but he ignored it.

"Thanks for bringing her, Brenda," he managed to say, though his throat felt choked by emotion.

He felt her fingers settle on his forearm. "How do you feel?" she wanted to know.

"Much better now," he sighed.

"She's been missing you a lot, Doug."

He looked up at her, then at his daughter as she grabbed a fit of his hair. "The feeling's mutual."

"No, sweetie—don't grab Daddy's hair," she laughed softly, uncurling her little fist.

"Oooh," she cooed, slapping her fist against his collarbone. "Oooh Dat-dah!" she gurgled.

He gazed at her in amazement. "You're talking!" he marveled, his mind filling with a vision of Lynne and how she had not lived long enough to share this moment. With a ragged sigh of pain he closed his eyes.

"Let's give them some time alone, Bobby," Brenda's voice called gently.

"No," he objected, looking up at her. "Don't go."

Her brows lifted in surprise as she smiled. "You won't drop her."

He glanced at his heavily bandaged arm. "I don't want to risk it, please?"

She nodded and glanced at where it lay upon the pillow. "Does it feel any better?"

"A little—not throbbing as much."

She pulled the chair closer as they watched Catherine reacquaint herself with him, bandages and all. For a moment no one said anything of consequence. Then Alex cracked open the door, his hand apparently on the light switch in the hall, which he flicked off.

"Time's up, folks," he announced, "and the surgeon's waiting to do an exam. You can come back later, up until 11."

Brenda met his gaze and then reached for Catherine. "We'll be back to say goodnight," she reassured him, following Bobby to the door. He watched them leave, frowning at his nurse.

"When can I keep her in with me?" he wanted to know.

"As soon as you're out of ICU—see what the doctor says," he replied, holding the door open for an older man who came in wearing a dress shirt. He nodded brusquely, concentrating on reading his chart.

"Mr. Bukowski," he droned, "you've finally woken up...how's the pain?"

Doug frowned, staring at him solemnly. "Which one?"

The doctor looked up, half amused, half irritated. "From the surgery on your side."

"About a 7."

He wrote something in the chart and glanced at Alex. "Decrease his painkillers to twice a day," he ordered, then approached the bed and drew back the bedcovers. "The quicker you wean off them, the better."

Doug ground his teeth at the doctor peeled back the gauze without much care. When he saw the incision for the first time he felt ill.

"We weren't able to do it laparoscopically, hence the larger incision," the doctor stated. "But the scarring should be minimal—you're young and healthy enough."

Doug concentrated on the fact that Catherine was coming back as he was probed and forced to move to have his back examined. Exhaling carefully when it was finally over, he studied the man's grim expression.

"The wound is healing quite nicely," he announced, to Doug's surprise. "The drain should be able to come out by the end of the week." He turned to Alex. "Get him on his feet tomorrow evening to walk the length of the corridor—no stairs yet. The next day switch to two trips, and I'll be in to check his progress after that."

"All right, Doctor," Alex answered, tearing open a few more packages of gauze to redress the wound.

"Don't cover it too tightly," he ordered, glancing back at Doug. "If you have a good night we'll transfer you to the regular floor tomorrow night. Any questions?"

"About my hand—"

"Dr. Hall will evaluate you, but the usual course is physical and occupational therapy. The stitches in your shoulder will come out next week. As for the concussion, the after effects should be gradually subsiding. Dr. Grand from Neurology will be evaluating your neuro status, just to be sure there's no lingering damage."

Doug pursed his lips but said nothing, not liking the pompous attitude of the man.

"Well, we're done here," he announced, turning to leave. "Nurse, call me if he spikes another fever."

"All right," Alex answered, glancing up from the wound dressing. When the surgeon was gone they exchanged glances.

"Hasn't got the best bedside manner, does he?" Alex quipped, tossing the bloodied gauze into the waste basket.

"No, he doesn't," Doug agreed, pulling the blanket back up his chest. "Thanks."

"No problem," Alex said, pulling off his latex gloves. "The good news is you'll have a regular room as of tomorrow, and I'll arrange to have your daughter transferred there."

"Thanks," he groaned, trying to get comfortable again. "I appreciate your help."

"I know you do—look I'm going off shift now, but Mary will take good care of you. She's been with you since you were brought in and has issues with intense mothering. She may treat you like a little kid."

"I've been through worse," he grinned, "but thanks for the warning."

Alex chuckled. "It'll be good for you—take you mind off things. So I'll be back tomorrow. Best prepare yourself for some heavy duty exercise, doctor's orders."

"Yes sir," Doug exhaled, watching until the door closed behind him again. Alone again, he tried to ignore the increased soreness in his side from the exam, wondering why doctors seemed to want their patients to recover, but inflicted more pain in the process. Settling back and feeling edgy from the quiet emptiness of his room, he told himself he couldn't have too much time before Brenda and Catherine returned. He tried imagining them going for dinner, and maybe a walk. Glancing toward the pale golden light gilding the edges of the blinds, he realized it did not bother his head. Somewhat reassured, he rested his head back and let his thoughts drift back to Lynne. He tried to remember her smile but was hampered by the harsh reality of her brutal death. Plummeting toward despair, he gasped at the pain in his heart. He could only remember her blank eyed stare and the pool of blood in which he'd found her.

He closed his eyes as a wave of intense grief crashed over him. "Oh Lynne," he murmured, the room filling with the soft echo of her laughter, as if coming to him from a distant realm. His memory flashed with bits and pieces of their lives as he fought to breathe—he remembered holding her in his arms and kissing her just before her father sent him to scout out the desert road. He remembered his angry outburst about her father's teasing and a ridiculous argument they'd had before leaving. And then he remembered the last time they'd made love. An icy shudder ran through him as he remembered the coldness of her skin as she lay on the floor of the trailer and he wept over her departure.

_**Suddenly they were back, **_and he pulled himself out of the dark hold he'd fallen into, concentrating on their happy faces as Bobby raised a hand in farewell.

"I'm going to bed early, so I'll see you tomorrow," Bobby called, nodding to Brenda. "I'll wait up for you."

"Thanks," she answered softly, gently patting Catherine's back. Doug focused on the movement of her hand, feeling as if the moment were frozen in time. He studied Brenda's face, realizing that she would be the only mother Catherine would know, and the realization that she would not remember Lynne brought him closer to despair. He slowly lifted his eyes to Brenda and watched her expression change, as if she sensed the same thing. Her lips parted gently as she looked into his eyes. Then he heard someone call his name.

"Mr. Bukowski," a woman's deep voice called, jerking him out of his trancelike state. He looked over at the nurse who'd entered the room and passed Brenda. "I'm Mary, your night nurse—I was here when they first brought you in."

He stretched his head back to study her profile as she adjusted his IV and focused on the traction unit. She glanced over at his face and he was startled by her bright green eyes. "I must say, you look a lot better than when I first saw you!"

He felt her hand touch his forehead a moment and she smiled. "Good, no fever either! Now Alex tells me you need your arm put back in traction, so let's get you settled so you can enjoy your company, all right?"

"Ok," he answered, glancing over at Brenda and Catherine as she adjusted the machine. Brenda was studying him carefully, then leaned over and tucked Catherine against his good side. She straightened, her eyes running down his throat, across his chest and resting upon his injured arm.

"Is there numbness or pain?" Mary was asking him as she lifted and settled his cast back into the unit.

"Some numbness, but mostly throbbing," he admitted, surprised by the soft growling of his stomach. Embarrassed that Brenda was standing so close, he nuzzled Catherine's curls and tried not to stare at the pudding, which by now he was craving.

"That's good—easy now—Alex must have told you not to lift. Another minute and I'll have you all hooked back in."

Catherine cooed and tried saying "dat" again.

"That's right baby girl," Mary stated, glancing at her with a wink. "She's really wanting to say Daddy, isn't she? I remember when mine were that young. That's how they usually start out, with the first syllable. You must be overjoyed to have her close by your side again."

"I am," he admitted, his eyes on his daughter.

"There you go—all set! Now I'll let you finish your meal and be back in 30 minutes to collect the tray and give you your pills, how's that?"

"Deal," he agreed as Brenda finally sat down, leaning over to guide the baby away from the metal rail.

The nurse patted Catherine's cheek and took a moment to study him. "She has your eyes, Dad," she declared before heading to the door. "Be back later."

Brenda met his gaze. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks," he answered as Catherine curled her fist around his thumb. He felt Brenda's eyes on him but averted his gaze, feeling embarrassed by his weakness.

"You look exhausted and you must be starving."

"I'm fine."

"You have orders to finish your meal, Doug…what _is _that anyway?"

"Butterscotch pudding," he declared, glancing up guiltily. "Actually it has been calling to me, why on earth, I'll never know."

She picked it up and snatched the spoon from the tray. "Let me help while you hold her," she ordered, dipping it in and bringing the spoon toward him.

"I'm not a baby, you know," he objected, but she stopped it at the juncture of his lips, an evil light dancing in her eyes.

"I've noticed," she answered, poking it at his lips until he opened and pulled it off the spoon. He let it coat the inside of his mouth and savored it a moment before swallowing. She laughed in delight, spooning another serving toward him. "You're a lot more fun to feed than your daughter."

He took the proffered spoon but managed a cynical half-smile. "You have no idea."

She gasped in mock offense, shaking her head and propelling another spoonful toward him. He leaned back his head and ate it, enjoying the taste and the teasing.

"I think you're actually enjoying this," she commented, looking smug.

"I thought I'd take advantage of the service," he answered, waiting for the next spoonful, which she made an elaborate gesture of spooning against his upper lip.

"You look like a little boy when you do that," she snorted in laughter.

"You don't have to enjoy teasing me as much as you are," he shot back, shaking his head. "Taking advantage of me in my weakened state."

She leaned closer to push it against his lips. "This is the most fun I've had since we got here."

He swallowed and studied her until she reddened and glanced away. "You're right, I shouldn't tease."

He regretted the dying down of the light in her eyes. "How have you been?" he asked gently, sensing the mood between them as lost.

"Fine," she said softly, avoiding his gaze. Catherine curled closer and laid her head on his shoulder. He gently smoothed his hand up and down her back.

What she had suffered that fatal night had been clear to him the moment he'd seen her. She had been dragged from the trailer by the one called Lizard, and the blood covering her legs had shocked him to stillness. Then Bobby had rushed to her and taken her in his arms to comfort her. That was before he'd gone into the trailer…

"Brenda…you can tell me."

She looked up and met his gaze. "You know what they did to me," she said just above a whisper.

He nodded. "I'm so sorry…"

She shuddered, fighting tears. She reached out and wrapped her fingers gently around Catherine's arm. "I had a very extensive and humiliating exam, and then I had to take an abortion pill," she told him, her eyes on his sleepy daughter. "For a few days afterward you really suffer…but I'm past that now."

"I'm sorry I wasn't much help…"

She looked up and met his gaze. "You nearly died…besides, I'm not sure I would have wanted anyone around…I wouldn't let Bobby help either."

He studied her pale face, feeling a surge of anger at what they'd done to her. "I killed them," he said quietly, watching her expression change. "The big one— I killed with my own hands…the lizardy one was much tougher, but he's dead. They can't hurt you anymore."

She lifted her hand to grip the railing, her eyes wide. "What did you do?" she whispered.

"It was the big one who chopped off my fingers," he admitted, watching her carefully."He ended up with a spike through his throat, and then I turned his own axe on him."

She stared at him in rapt fascination. "And the other one?"

"I beat and shot him with his own gun. He was going to kill Catherine, so I had to kill him. At one point when I thought he was dead, I turned my back on him. But it was a mistake. If it hadn't been for Ruby…"

Her brow furrowed with confusion. "Who's Ruby?"

"The girl who helped me get Catherine back," he began. "She helped me—took her away from the others. When she finally handed her back to me I was so thrilled...all I could do was stare at her little dirty face and give thanks that she wasn't hurt. I didn't see him getting up to come back for me—Ruby did. She cried out to warn me, and ran toward him. She knocked him off balance, but they both fell over the cliff to the rocks. I stood watching them for a while… neither of them moved."

She stared at him, devouring every bit of information. "How did you find them? Where were they hiding? And what did they do to you to beat you up so badly—"

"It's a long story," he said tiredly, glancing down at Catherine, who was asleep.

"Please, Doug," she whispered, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "I want to know."

"I'll tell you everything you want to know, but not now," he answered. "I just wanted you to know that the two monsters who hurt you are gone forever…. I'd that I'd do it again, without hesitation—for Catherine, and for you."

"I'm just thankful you both came back," she said solemnly, holding his gaze. "You're all we have now, Bobby and I, you and Catherine…everyone else is gone."

He knew by the compassion in her eyes that she was thinking of him, too. At the thought of Lynne they both looked ready to weep, so he turned his attention to Catherine. "I can help take care of her now," he whispered. "I'm sorry it all fell on you."

"Don't be!" she whispered, resting a hand gently on Catherine's head. "I love her, and I love you, especially for telling me what you did."

Flooded with guilt, he nevertheless held her gaze. "But I could have prevented what happened to you," he confessed. "I ran into the trailer for the fire extinguisher and blanket for your father! I didn't even look in your direction—"

"You were trying to help Dad—Bobby told me everything that you did, Doug."

"No— I ran in and ordered you to watch Catherine, without so as much as a glance—"

"Stop!" she pleaded, shaking her head. "They would have killed you too, like they shot Lynnie and Mom!"

"I'm sorry Brenda," he groaned. "I didn't protect you—"

"I said stop, Doug! It's over, and there's nothing we can do about any of it! So please, just don't talk about it anymore."

"I needed to apologize, Brenda," he insisted, "for my own sake."

She held his gaze a moment, then nodded. "All right."

Relieved, he leaned his head back. "We'll put this behind us someday," he told her, trying to believe it himself. "Frankly, that day can't come soon enough."

She nodded, wiping her eyes and reaching for a Kleenex to blow her nose. "I don't want to upset Catherine," she whispered, glancing at her half-asleep face.

He kissed her hair and let Brenda lift her from his chest.

"Time for us to go," she whispered, smiling down at him and hearing the nurse coming toward the room. "We'll see you in the morning," she added, holding the baby close.

He studied her covertly as she greeted the nurse and spoke with her in soft tones. Mary came over and made him swallow three pills, and when he was finished he soon felt them begin to take effect.

"What did you give me?" he asked softly, feeling inordinately tired.

"Just something to relax you," she answered, nodding toward his arm. "And to relax the hand. Don't fight it—you have a lot of rest to catch up on. These two lovely ladies can come see you in the morning," she said, gently propelling Brenda toward the door.

About to follow the nurse out, Brenda turned and smiled at him, and that was the last thing he remembered before he had to close his eyes.

_**Lingering at the door, **_Brenda stood watching him fall to sleep. It took only a minute or two, but when his chest began to lift slowly she knew he was out. For the first time in days he looked more at peace, so she turned away and smiled at his nurse.

"You should get some rest too," Mary whispered, nodding back toward his room. "They'll be getting him up for the first time tomorrow, so you don't want to miss that. Plan on the late afternoon."

"When will he get a regular room?" she whispered, trying not to wake Catherine.

"Probably after that, if he does well enough."

"Then he can keep Catherine with him?"

"Absolutely—you've got a wonderful man there, honey," she stated, and Brenda realized it was true without bothering to correct her. She'd lied about his being her husband just to get him into surgery, and she didn't regret it. Nodding, she turned away and started back toward her own room.

She'd seen how broken up he'd been about Lynnie, but knew that now that he could see Catherine he would heal faster. When he'd told her what he'd done to the two that attacked her, he'd somehow made things better. He'd taken care of them, despite what it had cost him. Of course it was for Catherine's sake, but he'd wanted her to know that it was for her sake too. And for that she loved him even more. Turning at last into the corridor in which they were housed, she remembered that Bobby had promised to get a better crib for Catherine before he retired. As she switched the baby to her shoulder to open the door, she thought about going home to that big empty house without their parents. She also realized for the first time that Doug would take Catherine home with him, and the thought made her feel anxious and upset.

"It won't be home without you and Doug there," she whispered to Catherine as she gently laid her in the new crib. Then she wondered if Doug would Doug really want to go home to an empty house, without her sister. What were they going to do? They all needed each other, and she couldn't imagine that changing. Not for a very long time.

She heard Bobby's heavy breathing and was thankful that he was a heavy sleeper. After covering the baby with a light blanket she changed into her newly purchased pajamas and slipped beneath the blankets, closing her eyes and thinking of Doug all alone in the ICU. She concentrated on him, praying that thoughts of him would distract her from thinking about the horrors she'd suffered. Maybe tonight, she thought somewhat hopefully, she would dream of him fighting and killing them both. Encouraged, she sighed tiredly and closed her eyes, smiling at the thought of Doug being everyone's hero. If only Lynnie could see him now, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

_c. 2010 by Christine Levitt_

"


	4. Chapter 4 The Village

_**Chapter 4 The Village**_

Unable to take any more Doug slowly got up, clutching the back of the chair for support. His side ached, so much so that he winced at the pain, eliciting a flicker of guilt in the colonel's hardened expression before it quickly vanished. In that moment he knew that the last hour they'd spent shouting at each other had been worth it, even if he'd only managed to break through the man's iron reserve.

"All I can say, Colonel, is that if someone had taken responsibility for the events leading up to this tragedy, I might still have my wife and in-laws around—"

"Young man," the colonel warned as he leaned toward him, hands planted on his desk, "you know nothing of what you speak! This is a complicated matter which involves several divisions of the United States government, and as a civilian you are not be permitted to trespass all over it."

"Then as a civilian, colonel, I claim the right of my family to not only make and receive phone calls and visitors, but leave whenever we desire."

"You speak of your father, a man who has frankly been completely unreasonable—"

"My father is too intelligent not to see through the lies he's being fed concerning our status, and _frankly _neither do I."

"May I remind you Mr. Bukowski that you are on government property and thus are expected to abide by the rules of this facility, as is your father."

Doug took a deep breath, trying not to completely lose his temper or his mind. "Look, we're thankful for the medical care and accommodations afforded us during our stay, but interrogating us to the degree which we've suffered is surely in violation of our rights _as _citizens. We've told you every detail, Sir, countless times—now it's up to you to handle the problem."

"And how do you propose we do that, Mr. Bukowski? All we have is your word, no proof, that there were indeed _crimes_ committed, and that you went about finding the perpetrators—"

"I gave you specific details, even sketching you a map!" Doug shouted. "Maybe if you'd let me use your sacred computers I could show you satellite photos and topographical maps showing the way! Or better yet I'd take you there myself if I thought it'd do any good!"

The colonel stared at him with a reddened face, then picked up the phone and dialed a number. Doug turned his back on him and ran a hand through his hair, feeling like a caged rat. For two days he'd been sequestered for his so-called debriefing and kept up all hours until his surgeon finally intervened and ordered him back to his hospital room for rest. There he began physical therapy and was making progress until they made him do it all over again with Brenda and Bobby. It was obvious what the strain was doing to them, affecting their health as well.

He heard the quiet one-sided conversation end and turned, only to see the colonel dial another number and repeat the process. Not knowing how much longer he would be kept this time, Doug sat back down and closed his eyes, rubbing his aching temples.

"So he's medically cleared, then?" he overheard him say, and with a sigh of relief he knew they were finally going to be allowed to go home. "Fine—put both units on standby alert."

Doug watched him replace the phone before he crossed his arms and eyed him accusingly. "Mr. Bukowski, are you ready to stand behind your previous offer?"

Doug looked at him blankly. "What offer?"

The colonel came from behind his desk, holding his beret. "Why to be our guide, of course. I want you to take us to the scene of the crime and prove to us that what you said happened really did happen."

Doug stood up, his expression guarded. "Then you'll let us go home, right?"

The colonel only smiled as he opened the door, where Bobby and Brenda waited nervously. Then he stepped out of his office and nodded to them.

"Mr. Bukowski here has offered to lead a team back to the location where the alleged attacks took place—are you willing to come along and corroborate his story?"

Brenda tore her gaze from Doug's face and nodded. "We are."

"Sure," Bobby said eagerly.

"If indeed the events you've described have taken place, we'll need solid evidence. A team of forensic specialists will be gathering that evidence, and it may be at the expense of your peace of mind. Are you both prepared for that?"

They looked to Doug, who glanced at the colonel. "We're not going unless we have protection, and that my daughter will be well cared for in our absence."

"Agreed—I've already made arrangements for your father to be admitted to the unit, and if it makes you feel any better he will be allowed to visit with your daughter."

Doug nodded sternly. "Good, but I want to see him first."

"Mr. Bukowski, we haven't much time—"

"I am going to have to insist upon it," Doug said quietly. "I think he's waited here in limbo long enough, Sir," he added, interrupted by the arrival of a uniformed man pushing a wheelchair. He narrowed his gaze at the empty chair. "And I can walk—"

"I'm afraid that in order to secure your medical clearance to leave this base, you must be escorted to the vehicles in such a manner. Hospital rules."

Doug frowned at Bobby's chuckle, and even Brenda looked amused, though she had the grace to glance in a different direction while he argued about the chair.

"I insist, Mr. Bukowski," the colonel smiled, extending his arm toward the chair.

Doug pursed his lips but walked over to it and sat down, gripping the arms. "I'm fine," he protested.

"Do this for me, and I'll release you all to go home, with restrictions against sharing your experiences without clearance from this command. Do you understand?"

Not caring for the restrictions, Doug nevertheless knew there was no other way to leave. "We understand," he stated.

"Good—you will each be escorted from your rooms to our departure point, and I will see you outside," the colonel nodded. "We leave in one hour."

He saw Brenda and Bobby stare at him as if he were going to his execution, and wondered if he'd made a huge mistake. Then he was whirled him around and pushed down the corridor at a speed that was faster than he'd imagined. To his surprise he was wheeled into a different wing of the base, one he'd never seen before. Another few minutes passed until they turned again and he saw the end of the corridor where his father stood behind a glass partition, his expression angry and impatient. As they drew nearer he sensed it and turned, his eyes locking with Doug's. He could see the shock and outrage in his expression as he was wheeled to a halt and got up carefully. Cursing the wheelchair for making him look more infirm that he was, he endured his father's scrutiny of his badly bruised face, casted arm and no doubt weakened appearance. As his father came around the partition toward him a wave of panic gripped him in the throat, for he realized that his father knew nothing.

"I hope you haven't waited too long," he apologized as his father threw his arms around him and hugged him. He tried not to sway as his eyes filled unexpectedly with unshed tears. The reality of being alone and without Lynne hit him in that moment, and he rested his forehead on his father's shoulder.

"You look like you've been mugged by a gang," his father croaked, pulling back to study his condition. "When I kept calling and you didn't answer, I knew something terrible had happened."

"Dad, listen—we don't have much time," he began, looking to his escort for help. "Is there somewhere my father and I can speak in private?"

The man nodded and held out his arm to his left. "Follow me, sir—but you have to ride—"

"Please, just someplace close by?"

He looked him in the eye and nodded. "All right, this way." They were escorted to a small conference room and waited as he went back to the door. "I'll be right outside, sir."

"Thank you," Doug answered, feeling his father's hand beneath his elbow as the door closed.

He turned to his father, nodding toward one of the chairs. "You'd better sit down, Dad," he sighed tiredly.

"Why?" Abe Bukowski wanted to know. But he pulled out one for him and wouldn't sit until he did. "Please, tell me why I've been camped out her for two days waiting to see you! Why are you all alone, son?

"I'm sorry, Dad—they wouldn't let me see you," he answered, sitting heavily in the chair. Leaning into it with his good side, he rested his arm upon the table to relieve its intense throbbing. He swallowed hard, eyeing his father's lined face. There was no other way to tell him than to be blunt.

"Did you have a fight with Lynne? Is the baby alright?"

"There's been an accident," he began as tactfully as he could. "We were driving on an isolated road through the desert hills. The car was totaled—no, no one was hurt in the accident. But we were stranded. Bob and I set out in different directions to go for help—there was no reception on the phone anywhere in that area for at least 50 miles, Dad."

"I've tried to reach you every day son—it's been five days."

"I know," he answered, rubbing his temples. Then he dropped his hand to his lap and sighed mightily. "What I'm going to say next will sound crazy, and it is, but it's the truth, Dad. There were people out there in the desert, living in the hills…they started picking us off, one by one and starting with Bob."

"So I was right, you were mugged by a gang," he stated.

"In a way, it was a gang, but not your typical gang, Dad. I scouted the dirt road we'd taken and found it dead-end at a huge crater. But it was filled with abandoned vehicles, all different kinds of vehicles, even a boat, out in the middle of the desert. It was like the Twilight Zone or something. Anyway, I collected a few things and headed back to the Airstream. Bob hadn't returned, even though it was past dinnertime—we all figured he was coming with a tow truck sooner or later.

"We put the baby to bed in the trailer, and Lynne and I went to sleep in the SUV. But Bobby was agitated, waiting up for his father. Around midnight he came and told us something was going on, that he'd found one of the dogs dead but didn't want to alarm us. I thought that was strange, but he looked so scared we decided to investigate. While we were going to head out something exploded about 100 yards from the trailer…it turned out to be Bob. He was tied to a cactus, Dad, and someone had set him on fire. "

"Good God! What did you do, Doug?"

"I ran to get the fire extinguisher and a blanket from the trailer, and I yelled to Brenda to watch the baby. She slept in the back, next to Catherine's bassinette, and I thought nothing of rushing in for what was needed without checking on them…while I was trying to help Bob everything started to unravel, Dad. We heard the baby crying, so Lynne ran to check on her, her mom following her into the trailer. Then Bobby and I heard a shot."

He choked on the last word, shook his head and tried to think of how to explain what happened next. With as few words as he could manage, he told his father the rest of the story, including his successful rescue of Catherine. By the time he was finished he felt exhausted, but his father got up and began to pace the room, deep in thought.

"So the military is somehow involved, but they're saying nothing," he surmised, rubbing his chin.

"How could they have known nothing, Dad? You know how government property is protected and under surveillance."

He shook his head. "Don't be so sure, especially if those craters were from old test sites. The only monitoring might be for environmental impact, I'd guess. Maybe they don't know what you think they do…but you say there was a village, and people still living there?"

Doug nodded, "if you can still call them people. They were horribly disfigured by radiation, and had become cannibals, Dad. How could they exist out there without anyone knowing? And what happened to the owners of those abandoned vehicles—why haven't their friends or families found out what happened to them? Why do we seem to be the first?" he wondered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I don't know son, but it appears that you are the first. It would explain why you're being detained and questioned, and why they wouldn't let me see you."

"Don't we have rights, as civilians? Can they force us to stay, and to say nothing about what happened?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know, son. But if they hold you to secrecy, you had better respect that condition if you want to get out of here."

"Oh we're getting out of here, starting sooner than you think," Doug stated dryly. "My guard out there is probably going to interrupt us in the next 10 minutes and take me to my next appointment, which is to lead an expedition back to the village, as if they don't know where it's located. They need hard evidence, they tell me, in order to believe my _story_."

"But son, you're in no condition to go out there—what happened to your arm anyway? It must be badly broken—"

"One of those mutants chopped off my fingers," he said tightly.

"What?" his father choked, staring at his hand, "but I see your fingers, at least—"

"The pinky is gone, and half my ring finger."

He held his gaze a moment, then stretched his hand to cover his good one. "I'm so sorry Doug, about Lynnie—she was a beautiful young woman. And your in-laws…"

Doug averted his gaze, pursing his lips. "I've got to go back with them, Dad," he said, looking up again. "I've got to make sure they know and do something about it, before someone else gets hurt."

He nodded. "And you have to get them back, for proper burial. They need to be laid to rest back home."

A knock on the door interrupted them, and they both got to their feet as the door opened. "Sorry, sir—I have to get you back to your rendezvous."

Doug nodded, and they went out into the hall. "Wait—the colonel said that my father could stay with my daughter—"

"Yes, sir—it's all been arranged," he answered. "I'll take him to her first, so you can let her know your father's here."

_**Two hours later they reached the outskirts of the village. **_Adjusting his dark glasses and hat, Doug squinted at the glaring light as he climbed carefully out of the Jeep. Keeping his back straight was an effort, but he'd been told by his physical therapist it would aid in his recovery from the surgery. What he felt like doing was slump over like an old man and shuffle along, just to ease the pain. He watched the soldiers line up in formation before him, looking to him for direction and he'd better look confident.

"Ready, son?" Captain Roher, and Doug nodded, having already seen the colonel climb out of his private Jeep and stand outside the circle, along with Bobby and Brenda. "Go ahead, then."

Grateful to have a better tempered officer to deal with, he looked the men over. "We're doing this backwards from the route my family and I took coming in," he explained, "and will hopefully complete this circuit there." He pointed up toward the ridge. "Up there is the exit from the mines used to pass between this village and the lands where we first made contact. The mines are a short cut and hiding place, and inside them you'll find the graves of those they buried themselves. I suggest someone collect evidence in there as well, to document their history."

With that comment he could feel the disapproving eyes of the colonel upon him, but continued. He'd been assigned this task, and he was going to do it his own way, whether the colonel liked it or not.

Beast barked and he nodded to the private holding his long leash. "Beast is an excellent tracker, and will lead you faster and better than I can—he did all of the tracking and some of the tasks which were necessary in defending ourselves."

Brenda clutched Bobby's arm, and he knew they were watching him closely. He wouldn't be able to hide anything from her, and he knew she worried over him. On the other hand he hated bringing her here, and Bobby too—what they didn't need to see was their father's body parts displayed so proudly in the mutants' dining room, and he would do all he could to spare them that.

Starting off toward the first building, he led them but was protected by four scouts who stayed just ahead of him, listening to his directions. They moved in precise formation, guarding the way ahead as well as on both sides. Another group brought up the rear and protected the others. Six forensic specialists carried kits and wore special uniforms, ready to collect the evidence. Approaching the first house he gestured toward it without interest.

"This is the first building I entered to search of my daughter," he began, shaking his head. "Not much in there, but if you want to check it out you'll get the general idea about the level of civilization enjoyed here. We'll be passing the other buildings until reaching the fourth, marked by an active generator at the far side of the house. It drew my attention, hinting at signs of life. I approached the window closest to the generator, looked in and saw my daughter inside, lying on a double bed. She was alone in one of the bedrooms."

_**Brenda shuddered with fear, listing to his voice and reliving the experience through his eyes**__. _As they approached that house the generator was there, but was silent. The wind howled and blew sand all around them, lending an unearthly quality to the place. She prayed the officers would believe him, wondering why they wouldn't, he seemed so confident and knowledgeable. Following close behind him, she paused with Bobby as they watched the scouts go in, rifles pointing in every direction. They called back the "clear" message, and Doug went in, heading down the hall as they followed. He pointed toward the dusty but well furnished bedroom to their left, then the sitting room across the hall.

"Catherine was lying on the bed in here, and over there I saw a very big woman sitting in a rocking chair watching television. I snuck past her, picked up my daughter and started to ease out. At some point she must have heard me—when I turned a corner she was there in front of me. The last thing I remembered was Catherine's cry before she knocked me out."

Brenda gently moved through the guards to get closer to him, and when he turned and acknowledged her she took his good arm. He guided them further into the house, down another hallway and into another wing, stopping before a large freezer that stood in a small mudroom. He gestured dismissively toward it. "She must have dragged me all the way over here, and hoisted me up into it. I woke up locked inside, and if you'll open it, you'll see what I awoke to."

Two of the men approached the freezer, flipped up the broken lid and gagged, drawing back with grunts of disgust. Another one came forward and checked, gagging at the smell of rotting flesh which by now was filling the hall. Two of the forensics men nodded to the captain after they looked inside.

"His story checks out, sir," one of them stated. "There must be two dozen body parts in there, and it's big enough to accommodate him."

Doug glanced back at the colonel, who was watching from a distance.

He nodded. "Continue, and make sure forensics gets samples of everything. And I want photographs."

Doug turned and led them outside, and in the next few hours they journeyed in his steps through the maze of each house that he considered pertinent to his ordeal, even pointing out the car where he hid Beast, who barked incessantly when he passed it. They came to another house where Doug stopped before entering. He turned to her and Bobby.

"I don't think either of you should see what's in there," he warned, his face pale.

"Why not?" Bobby challenged, passing by him before Doug caught his arm. "I mean it—"

"What is it, Doug?" Brenda asked, holding his arm.

He stared at her hard. "Your father," he said in a hoarse voice, "at least what's left of him."

"Captain," one of the guards reported on his return, "there are three corpses in here—pretty gruesome. Looks like a huge fight went on in there."

They waited as Doug slowly entered the room, visibly moved by revisiting it. Brenda appreciated his warning, but she needed to see what had become of her father. The first thing they saw was what looked like his head and neck, burned and impaled on a spike. She cried out, covering her mouth and turning away. Below the chair lay the huge ogre who'd tried to rape her and as she stared at him she felt Doug place a hand on her shoulder. She remembered what he'd said as she stared blindly at the spike through his throat, the axe in his skull and the screwdriver sticking out of his foot.

"You paid them back, Doug," she cried, gripping Bobby's arm like a vice. He covered his face and shook with grief.

"Good Lord," he cried, "poor Dad."

The captain motioned for help and three men surrounded the bodies, apparently treating the mutants differently than her father. When she looked up at Doug he was staring at something beneath the smashed up dining room table.

"How did you manage to defeat this giant, Mr. Bukowski?" the captain asked in awe, "he's almost twice your size."

"There's another body in here," one of the men called back, "looks like the dog got him in his wheelchair."

"Doug, what's wrong?" Bobby croaked, having finally noticed him standing and staring down at the floor.

He pointed to a bloody spot on the floorboards. "Those are my fingers," he said quietly before he turned away. Brenda followed close behind him, hearing Bobby ask if they could be saved and reattached. Thankfully he'd asked it quietly, and she hoped Doug hadn't heard.

He ordered them to exit in the back, and outside was another huge corpse, also with an axe in its skull, lying alongside an old sedan.

"You did this?" the captain asked in amazement, staring down at Doug. He himself was over 6 ft tall, Brenda guessed, while Doug was more of an average height. Still, he was at least 6" taller than she was. "You either outwitted them or you were running on pure adrenaline," he concluded, planting a hand on Doug's good shoulder.

Doug shook his head. "I just needed to get my baby back," he said quietly. "That's all I wanted."

"What about the woman?" one of the men asked him, and he turned to stare at him. "I have no idea," he answered. "You didn't find her?"

"No, sir…was there anyone else?"

He nodded. "She had two children, a boy and a girl—the boy was about 7, the girl maybe 4 or 5."

"Search the rest of the buildings and report back," the captain ordered. "Then we'll move along to the ridge."

After half an hour the scouts came back to report. Doug tensed as he listened to their report.

"We found the woman and children, just as he described them," one of them stated, visibly shaken. "Looks like a murder/suicide pact—she was behind the wheel, the children were in back. The rear exhaust was blocked—car's still running with the radio on low, sir."

He nodded grimly, looking at Doug. "I don't think you need to see that."

The man's partner extended something toward Doug. "It says To the Baby's Father, sir."

Doug stared at it with horror. "There must be some mistake."

"Why not open it to be sure?" the captain urged him. "You're the only one who will know."

He reluctantly took it, touching the writing with one finger before he opened it with shaking fingers. Brenda watched as he withdrew two black and white photos, one of him lying in the cooler with the body parts, the other of Catherine lying on the bed and smiling." He shuddered and shoved it at the captain, turning away. Brenda noted how the evidence was quickly bagged and placed in a tote.

It took all afternoon and a great deal of courage for them to retrace and record Doug's ordeal, but by the time they collected the last of Brenda's attackers and what must have been the girl Ruby it was time to face the hardest part. He directed them back along the same trail he'd taken to go after Catherine, ending up by the blown up trailer and heavily damaged SUV.

Climbing stiffly out of the Jeep, Brenda took Doug's hand and Bobby's as they walked toward the camp. Bobby would not go near the spot where his mother's body still lay, half eaten and badly decomposed. Doug shuddered and averted his gaze, even as a group of soldiers discreetly surrounded it. The captain assured them that she would be treated with the utmost respect. Brenda cried openly, clutching Bobby's arm as he wept silently. Doug's face, they noted, was an emotionless mask, even as they turned away.

"Where is she?" he said quietly, his eyes searching the site. Bobby pointed toward the SUV, and he approached it, stopping a few feet away where he hung his head. Brenda went to his side, touching his arm to let him know they were there for him.

"She's in there," Bobby told the other soldiers, who surrounded the vehicle. They waited until they carried out a black bag which was zipped closed. Doug looked up, staring at it.

"I want to see her," he ordered, approaching them. They studied his face before gently setting it down. He dropped to his knees and waited. One of the men unzipped the top, lifting it partly away. A low moan of grief wrenched itself from him before he covered his eyes.

"Dear God," he croaked, staying with her even after the man closed the bag again. Bobby bent and took his arm, gently helping him to his feet. Brenda slid her arm around his back and nudged him away, and they turned with him to walk back to the Jeep. When they reached it the captain was there, waiting for them.

Bobby threw his arms around Doug and wept. "We miss her too," he cried. But Doug just stood there, numb and with a blank expression on his face. Brenda wept at the vacant look in his eyes, praying for his sanity. After some time the captain touched her elbow.

"We need to get him away from here," he said quietly.

She nodded, and touched Doug's cheek, forcing him to look at her. "We have to take her back," she said gently. "Lynnie is in a better place now...we have to get back to Catherine, and your father."

He let her guide him back into the vehicle, this time riding in the back and sitting between them. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, clearly drained. She kept his hand in hers while Bobby sat close to his other side. He guided them back to the highway so that Doug wouldn't have to. After that none of them said anything on the long road home.

"_**I'm taking my son home," Abe Bukowski demanded,**_ holding the colonel's disapproving frown. "He did what you wanted him to do. Now you have to let him go home and grieve his loss."

"Mr. Bukowski, your son is in a catatonic state, but he will recover under the care of our most competent psychiatrist," he tried explaining. "He's had a terrible shock, seeing his wife's decomposed remains. They've kept him sedated, to alleviate the pain of his trauma."

"I don't want him sedated by a psychiatrist or anyone else, understand? This is no longer your privilege, sir. I've called my lawyer to secure their release—"

"All right, but I advise against it," the colonel agreed, picking up his phone. "I'll see to it he's released in the morning—

"No, I want him now."

"Your son is in no condition to be released now."

"I can take care of my boy, whatever his condition, his daughter and Brenda and Bobby as well."

"The girl is free to go, but the boy is a minor," the colonel stated. "I cannot release him to your care without proper authorization."

"I've already got that," Abe said smugly, tossing an envelope onto his desk. "That's a copy of the guardianship papers that arrived in my son's mail the day after they left on their vacation. You will see that it is a legally endorsed copy of Mrs. Carter's last transfer of guardianship, naming my son and his wife guardians for both her children. I realize that Brenda is of age, but it clearly states that Mrs. Carter wanted her son Robert to be under the legal guardianship of Douglas and Lynne Bukowski, and it is a shared guardianship. He is Bobby's legal guardian; it's all documented. So please make the calls and get them ready. My car's in the visitor parking lot, but I'm sure one of your assistants will help us out and bring it around?"

The colonel rubbed his temples and looked up from the copies he was given. "All right, you win," he sighed. "But I warn you, your son is in no condition to travel."

_**Brenda watched Doug settle next to Catherine's car seat in the back, **_crying inside for what they'd done to him. He was clearly drugged and looked horribly pale. Even worse was the vacant look in his eyes, the same look that had remained since he'd seen Lynnie. She and Bobby had not been allowed to see him since they got back, nor had his father. They had whisked him back to the medical ward, then into the psychiatric ward. It was ridiculous—they wouldn't even let her take Catherine to him.

"They'll not hear the end of this from me," Doug's father said through his teeth as he drove off the base. He glanced back at Doug while they waited for the traffic light to change. "You'll get through this Doug—Lynnie would have wanted you to."

Brenda thought she saw a flicker of response in Doug's eyes when he looked up and focused upon his father's face. But he said nothing.

She reached across Catherine's car seat and touched his arm. "We're all going to make it, together."

The light changed and they moved on, Bobby glancing back at her with a huge sigh of relief. "I'm so glad we got out of that place."

"Me too," she agreed, settling back and smiling at Doug's profile. Catherine cooed happily in her car seat, hitting at the little mobile figures dancing before her eyes. She'd given her a bottle as soon as they piled into the car, and for now she was content.

"How long a drive is it?" Bobby wanted to know.

"About ten hours," Abe sighed, glancing back at Doug. "We'll stop around 10 at a hotel, if that's okay. I imagine you want the baby to get a decent rest before we start out again?"

When Doug didn't answer, Bobby turned on the radio. "Hey, none of that rock music?" Abe protested, gliding the car out onto the highway.

Bobby turned to look at him as if he was crazy. "But Doug likes this music," he protested, glancing back at him. "Don't you?"

"I don't care what he likes—this is my car and my radio!" Abe shot back, twisting the dial to a more sedate station.

"But—that's _classical _music!" he said in near horror.

Abe laughed, shaking his head. "It's soothing, good for a long ride."

Bobby hunkered down in the seat opposite him, gazing out the window. Not five minutes passed before he glanced hopefully at Abe. "Can we get something to eat? We haven't had lunch yet."

Brenda laughed and leaned over to kiss Catherine's cheek. She stretched over it to look into her happy face and glanced at Doug. His eyes were closed, and she blamed the drugs.

"Look, honey—Daddy's sleeping, so we want to let him get his rest. Would you like a story?"

Catherine reached up to pull her hair, and she gently disengaged her fist from the strand. Bending toward the floor, she rummaged in the tote bag and took out three picture books. "Which one first—the Pooh book?"

Catherine grabbed it as she started reading, glancing at Doug from time to time as she read to her. Though he'd turned his face away, she watched a nerve jump in his cheek from time to time and had the feeling that he was listening, however intently she didn't know. But he was not over-medicated, not anymore. Thankfully the last dose of whatever they'd given him was already wearing off. So she pulled her attention back to the book, waited until Catherine was ready for the page turn, then continued the story.

_c. 2010 by Christine Levitt _


	5. Chapter 5 Transitions

_**Chapter 5 Transitions**_

Doug pulled himself from the car, feeling inordinately stiff and groggy. His head felt like it was filled with cotton, his vision still impaired behind the dark sunglasses. Thankfully they helped alleviate the pain from his concussion, which had subsided to a dull thudding ache. They drugs they'd given him had only made it worse, but it was his own fault. They hadn't known what to do with him after he'd seen Lynne's swollen and lifeless face in the body bag, and he'd had nothing more to say or do. All that was left was to hold in his screams, angry accusations and cries of pain where no one else could witness them. It was none of their business anyway—he couldn't allow anyone else to interfere any further after he'd spent that private moment with his wife. However hard it had been to endure.

He'd had to do it, see Lynnie one more time no matter how bad she looked. It was vital that he say goodbye, something he'd been denied before. Now that he had, the reality of her departure was even more glaringly obvious. Though his father had arrived and picked him up just like the old days after school, though Brenda was being great taking care of Catherine, and Bobby was unusually self-controlled he was still missing half of himself, the half Lynne had taken with her from this world.

"Hey, man," Bobby said close to his shoulder, and he turned his head to look at him expectantly. "Your dad's tough, tougher than I thought he was."

Doug nodded, pursing his lips as he stared at Bobby.

"I was starving back there, you know? None of us had lunch, but he just kept driving and expected us to be happy with some dried up old granola bars he keeps in the glove compartment. I didn't realize you had it so hard, growing up."

"Bobby—can you help me get the diaper bag out?" Brenda called, nodding toward Abe as he paid the gas station attendant. "Abe's busy."

He saluted and hurried off. "Yes, el capitan!" he teased her as Doug shut his door and followed them.

It actually felt good to walk and stretch his stiff legs. He shrugged into his sling to adjust it more comfortably, flexing his remaining fingers despite their numbness. Pain still ricocheted from his absent ones, yet was somewhat more controlled on the pain meds. Walking over to the trunk, he watched Bobby lift out the heavy bag provided to them by Brenda's friend from the Army nursery while Brenda searched its contents for something. Catherine, upon seeing him, stretched toward him and he moved closer.

"Let me take her," he said quietly, surprising Brenda. She straightened and squinted up at him, then smiled and transferred the baby to his shoulder.

"You sure it doesn't hurt?" she checked, a look of concern in her eyes.

"It's fine," he rasped, clasping his daughter to his neck. She giggled and stretched like a boomerang over his shoulder, an old game they used to play. He was hit with a sudden flash of memory, when she used to do that and he would lift her high into the air.

"Dat-da," she announced, turning abruptly and gripping his head. The sunglasses twisted and before she could snatch them Brenda took her hand away.

"No, sweetie—Daddy needs his glasses!" she scolded gently, handing her a stuffed animal. She gripped it fiercely and shoved it into her mouth, biting its head.

"Thanks," he croaked, hating the sound of his voice. He still hadn't recovered from the sore throat and the pains along his neck from the anesthesiologist's grip, which Alex had informed him about and confirmed Bobby's suspicions.

"If you need a break just let us know," she offered, patting Bobby's shoulder as he hoisted the bag. "Bobby will be glad to take her for a little, won't you?"

He looked like he was about to object, then his face brightened. He leaned over and kissed Catherine's cheek. "Sure I would—she's my little buddy."

"Don't worry—we can all take turns," she added, pointing to his father as he climbed back into the car. "Even Grandpa, right?"

Abe looked up, looking overheated and tired. "What am I doing?"

"Taking turns with Catherine," she laughed.

He squinted up at the baby. "That's the best part of this trip," he admitted, "but I might need some help driving."

"Oh, me, me me!" Bobby offered, frowning at Abe's scowl.

"I was thinking of your sister driving a spell."

"Why not me? I just got my learner's permit three months ago," he smiled.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Abe smiled sardonically. "I'll meet you inside—get a booth if you can."

They shut the trunk and started toward the restaurant, feeling the heat blazing up at them from the melting tar in the parking lot. The sun was setting by now, and Doug realized how long he must have slept in the car. He hadn't even noticed them all driving through and eating fast food. Having gone without anything for some time, he was ready to eat a banquet.

They were seated quickly, for it was nearly 7:00 when they stopped for dinner. He felt many eyes upon Catherine, who always had attracted attention wherever they went. She beamed happily, earning oohs and ahs as well as "what a cutie" here and there. He felt awkward without Lynne and incapacitated by the sling holding his arm high. Managing as best he could, he had to wait for the waitress to pull over a high chair before settling her inside it. Brenda moved between them and fastened the buckles, then slid into the booth to the far side. He sat down and pulled her highchair closer, feeling a pinch in his side before he straightened.

The scar along his abdomen was raw and itchy, but he was thankful to be on solid foods, wondering what he could order. His stomach growled just in time for his father to hear when he came over and gestured for Bobby to move inside. Sitting opposite him, he nodded.

"Feeling any better, now that you've slept it off?" he asked him.

He glanced up from the menu. "Yeah, thanks."

"I see they have breakfast all day," he announced, glancing around the table. "Couldn't have asked for a better place to eat—real food this time."

Bobby looked up. "Burger Giant is my favorite," he protested, shaking his head at the menu. "But you're right—pancakes would be amazing right about now. We can get pizza for breakfast if we have this now."

Brenda looked up at him, scrunching up her nose. "I won't even try to imagine what that would taste like."

"Why should you care—you don't even eat breakfast," Bobby challenged, shaking his head as he snapped his menu shut. "I'm gonna have pancakes and sausages."

"Bobby…" she complained, raising her brows. "You don't need any more meat after that burger."

"Oh, you mean the kosher thing!" he stated, glancing at Abe. "Would that bother you, if I had sausages?"

"Not at all," Abe said distractedly, looking up at Doug. "Not as long as we don't have to eat it."

"What about Catherine, is she kosher too? Cos I need to know these things when I babysit her."

Doug pulled the strap of the high chair from her little fist and turned to look at him. "She's too little for sausages."

"I know, but what about when she's older?"

He sighed and laid down his menu. "I think I'll have the oatmeal."

Bobby looked puzzled. "Did Lynne want her to be kosher too—ouch, Brenda!"

Doug looked at her profile, but she was serenely studying her menu.

"Don't kick me, I wasn't doing anything!" he insisted.

She straightened and closed her menu, laying it atop Doug's. "It's none of our business..."

The waitress interrupted them, stating the specials. They ordered and waited for her to bring their coffee.

"Are you sure oatmeal is going to be enough, Doug?" his father said quietly. "You didn't even have lunch."

"It's fine, Dad. I'm on a limited menu from the surgery."

"For how long?"

He shrugged, leaning back as their coffee was served. He lifted Catherine's sippy cup to her lips, holding it for her as she drank.

The place was noisy with loud music and a large group in the adjoining section, and Doug felt his head start to ache more. He checked the clock over the cashier's desk and knew he had to wait two more hours for his pain meds. His head would just have to ache till then.

"Your face looks a lot better," his father observed, shaking his head as he lifted his cup. "I still have trouble imagining how this all happened."

"His hair is sure a mess though," Bobby teased, eager to change the subject.

"I can help you wash it later," Brenda offered, drinking her iced tea. "I did have a couple of classes at beauty school once."

"Don't let her touch your head, Doug," Bobby warned, gulping his milk with gusto.

"I'd appreciate it," Doug stated, choosing her skills over looking for a barber and having to face small talk and the obvious questions about his injuries.

"Why the hospital staff ignores such basic things is beyond me," his father sighed, leaning back as their food was delivered. "When I had my hernia operation they did the same thing."

All talk ceased momentarily as they ate their food, with Doug helping Catherine eat her sliced bananas and scrambled egg. When he got little time for his own, his father took her spoon and engaged her in conversation, distracting her from fussing with her food.

"You always did the same thing with your bananas," he observed, smirking at him. "Never saw them as food, just something to mash into the furniture."

Doug swallowed, glancing over at him. "That's because I hated bananas."

Brenda giggled, slicing her omelet with her fork and watching the cheese string between her fork and the larger piece. Twirling it to cut off the cheese, she popped it into her mouth and smiled at him. He spooned more oatmeal into his mouth, longing for the same thing she was eating. Especially the toast on the side.

"Man, I feel for you," Bobby observed. "You sure you can't have anything you can actually bite?"

He shook his head. "Not for another few days…I'm fine."

"Better than jello though, huh?"

He looked up, amazed that Bobby had already downed half his stack of pancakes. "Not necessarily."

"You always loved jello, since you were about 2," Abe offered, holding Catherine's cup for her again.

"Dad," Doug objected, feeling like he was 2 again.

Brenda and Bobby chuckled, Bobby snorting. "I think I actually see some color in your face, Doug."

"I love watching you two interact," Brenda admitted, trying not to laugh. "Makes me miss having more grandparents."

"Oh we're great at embarrassing our children," Abe admitted, spooning some of Catherine's eggs successfully into her mouth. "Good girl—what a great job you're doing!"

She pounded the tray while Doug decided he'd had enough. Preparing himself to be taken to task for it, he lifted his coffee and drained the cup, hoping it would help his head stop aching.

"Can I finish your oatmeal?" Bobby said in a baby voice, and he nodded. Bobby pulled it toward him with delight. "More for me!"

Brenda sat back, patting her stomach. "I'm taking this to go—it's way too much for now. Doug, want to try a piece of my toast?"

He glanced over at her, noting the tiny smile on her lips. "Alright," he admitted, gesturing for her not to bother putting jam on it. "It's fine the way it is, thanks."

She handed it to him and sat back to watch. He bit into one corner and pulled it into his mouth, amazed at the wonderful taste of the butter melting into the crisp toast. He closed his eyes to savor the effect.

"Now there's a sight to behold," Abe drawled. "Ah, more coffee—just in time."

Doug leaned back, opening his eyes and ignoring Bobby's interested stare. He swallowed and lifted the piece for another bite. Chewing, he nodded to the offer of more coffee and held the morsel for as long as he could, before it dissolved completely. His father poured cream into his coffee and he lifted the cup to wash it down. It was an amazing combination, Doug realized.

"I thought you'd enjoy that," Brenda mused, drinking her tea. "Whenever we got over a stomach ache Mom always gave us tea and toast, didn't she?" she said to Bobby, realizing what she said when it was too late. Her face fell and she stared at the table, holding her tea glass between both hands.

"It was perfect," Doug said gently, noting her distress. "You mom was an amazing person."

She nodded. "I really miss her."

"Me too," Bobby agreed as Abe cleared his throat.

"That she was—now if you're all finished we should get back on the road," he announced, turning to lift Catherine into his arms. Doug finished his coffee and Brenda asked for her meal to be wrapped to go. The waitress went off for a Styrofoam container as Abe flipped his wallet onto the table. "Get my card out, will you Son?"

Doug nodded, taking out his father's only credit card. "I'll take her," he offered, looking at Catherine's subdued expression.

"No, I insist—Brenda's going to drive around and pick a hotel, aren't you honey?"

She nodded. "Sure."

"That way I can spend a little time with my granddaughter here, okay baby?" he said gently, tucking her under his chin. She wound her arms around his neck and stared at his face.

_**Brenda poured the warm water over Doug's hair, **_glancing down at his closed eyes. They'd dragged a chair into the bathroom and propped it up backward against the sink so she could wash it for him. To her surprise he seemed to look forward to it, not objecting when she'd reminded him of her offer earlier and following her instructions without objection. Bobby and Abe had taken Catherine out in the stroller for a shopping trip, promising to buy her more diapers, formula and baby food for the trip while Doug took his pain killers and nursed his headache. Before they knocked him out she wanted to wash his hair, thinking it must be itchy and uncomfortable after all this time. Then she realized it had only been six days since the horrible night of the attack.

"Just let me know if anything hurts," she lectured, squirting baby shampoo onto his scalp.

"Feels great," he said more in a sigh, keeping his eyes closed. He nestled his neck against the thick toweling she'd padded the edge of the skin with, crossing his good arm over his sling. She eyed the towel draped over his chest and shifted her attention back to the area with the sutures still looking angry and puckered. Then she started to gently massage her fingertips over his head, avoiding the stitches. Working over his ears, she applied a bit more pressure along his temples, massaging them to help with his headaches. He sighed again, lifting his chin a bit more as she worked. The room was steamy and warm, and her hip brushed his shoulder but he did not seem to notice.

Reaching for a washcloth, she gently soaped it and brushed it lightly over the sutures, just enough to clean the skin but not dislodge the scabbing.

"Lift your head a little?" she ordered, and when he did she scooped soapy water across the base of his skull to wash the hair there. "Feel okay?"

"You can do it harder there," he answered, keeping his head up as she did so.

"Okay, back down," she ordered, going back to the tub to refill the water pitcher with warm water. Coming back to his side, she found his eyes still closed as she gently began to rinse off the shampoo.

He was so still she worried that he'd fallen asleep, but when she called his name his eyes opened. He looked up at her and she was amazed at how blue they were, even in the dimmed light of the bathroom.

She smiled. "I thought you were asleep—can you get up so I can rinse the back?"

"Sure," he breathed, balancing upon his good hand as he got up and turned. She stepped closer, touching his bare back as she poured the water over the back of his head. He kept it down low to avoid her spilling water everywhere, and then told him to wait for a second rinse.

Going back to the tub, she refilled the pitcher and moved back to his side. He had bent his good arm onto the edge of the sink and was resting his chin on it, waiting. She eyed the sling that crossed the bruised area of his back but returned her attention to his hair.

"How's your hand?" she asked gently, pouring the rinse water over all the areas of soap she still saw.

"Hurts," he sighed, swallowing thickly. "Thanks for doing this, Brenda."

"I'm happy to do it—I can't imagine myself going that long without washing my hair."

"Didn't really have a choice," he whispered.

She set aside the pitcher and reached for a towel. This she patted over the less injured parts of his skull before setting it over the back of his neck. "You can get up now."

He straightened and leaned a shoulder into the wall, taking a deep breath. "A bit dizzy…," he explained, taking another breath before he opened his eyes.

She looked up at him, standing very close with her hand on his arm. "You alright?"

He nodded. "Thanks."

She worried as he turned and left. Quickly cleaning up, she grabbed a clean towel and the scissors she'd asked for at the front desk. Following him out into the room, she went over to the bed where he'd sat down at the foot.

"You sure you don't want to lie down, Doug? I can see those pills taking effect—"

"No, 's fine," he answered, looking up at her. "Might as well finish."

"Well you don't want to rush a haircut," she teased, laying the folded towel over his bare shoulders. "Who knows what it'll look like..."

"I trust you," he breathed, gesturing for her to go ahead.

She lifted her hands, Catherine's baby comb in one as she gently straightened his hair. It was already starting to dry, so she worked as quickly as she could, trimming it and stepping between his legs to reach. Moving her head closer, she snipped along the bottom of his hair to trim it, eyeing him at close range.

"How short do you want it?"

"Just so I don't look like a girl," he answered leisurely.

She thought she saw the edges of his lips turn up a bit, wondering if she was imagining it. "Not a chance of that," she assured him, nudging his head to one side as she worked. She glanced down at him, thankful that he seemed less traumatized than just a half day earlier. It had been the right choice, she decided-she would tell his father, getting him away from the base as quickly as they can.

"Did Lynnie ever cut your hair, Doug?" she asked softly, avoiding his gaze as she worked.

He stiffened but she touched his chin and positioned his head to align the other side. After a moment he sighed tiredly.

"Yeah, once."

She bent to look at both sides critically, eyeing him directly. "How did she do?"

He glanced away, his face relaxing. "Horribly," he breathed, nearly smiling. "I never let her touch my hair again."

She giggled, cupping his cheeks to make him lift his head. Snipping at a few stray hairs, she avoided looking him in the eye. "I can imagine—Lynnie could never even draw a straight line, but you gotta love her for trying."

Catching herself, she started to apologize but he caught her hand. "Don't worry," he said softly, "I like talking about her."

She studied the slightly drugged look in his eyes. "Me too."

He released her hand and she turned to set down the scissors and comb. "It helps," he added.

She exhaled in conclusion, reaching for the hair-littered towel. "Well you're done—you can fine me if you don't like the cut."

He planted his hand on the mattress and slowly got up. "Brenda…"

She turned from balling up the towel and placing it on the end table. "What?" As she waited for him to answer, she felt her gaze pulled downward, passing the stitches that went too close to his heart and settling on the long incision in his side. Gulping, she forced her eyes back to his.

"I wish there was something I could do for you," he said softly, his eyes holding hers. She saw the regret in his expression and felt a sob form in her throat at the compassion in his expression.

"There is," she said, lifting her chin and forcing a smile. "Letting me wash your hair helped me as well," she confessed, thanking him silently for never threatening her in any way by his touch.

One brow lifted and she suddenly thought he looked like a sleepy little boy. "And cutting it?"

"Yeah," she admitted, "that too. I don't know if I can even explain how…"

He nodded, turning away to reach for a clean Army tee shirt. "I think I understand."

There was a bang at the door and she jumped, but then the lock turned and Bobby forced the door open. His eyes went wide at the sight of Doug's bare chest and her flushed face, but then realization hit him. Pushing the stroller in, he wheeled it over to the other king sized bed and threw some bags onto the bedspread. Then he lifted a finger over his lips and glanced down at the sleeping Catherine.

Doug nodded to him as his father came in quietly and locked the door. Suddenly the room was too crowded, and Brenda withdrew into the bathroom. Shaking Doug's hair into the wastebasket, she bunched up the towel and threw it under the sink. Looking at herself in the mirror, she touched her cheek and calmed herself. After Doug had mentioned her ordeal, she'd felt the fear activate inside automatically, despite his gentle manner and the look in his eyes. But she'd managed to quell it, concentrating on who he was—Doug, not some strange man or mutant. Doug was family, and he'd never hurt her. She was sure of that.

"Can I take a shower first?" Bobby asked, nodding toward the baby, "you know, while you get her settled?"

She nodded, pushing past him to go to Catherine. Abe was helping Doug pull the clean tee shirt down over his cast and chest. They left off the sling, as was instructed by the nurse, and Doug sat down next to Catherine. He reached in and unbuckled her waist strap, gently lifting her out and placing her on the bed. Brenda touched his shoulder and pushed aside the bags.

"I can change her," she offered, nodding toward the bed. "You get some rest, unless you want to dry your hair?"

He shook his head, his eyes on his daughter. "She looks so peaceful," he murmured.

"Screamed her lungs out in the store," Abe chuckled, watching them carefully. "You wouldn't think she had that much power in such a little package."

Doug chuckled and she pulled out a little nightgown from the bag, looking up at Abe. He shrugged. "Keep her warm in the air conditioning," he explained softly.

By the time Bobby had finished showering and Doug went in to wash up, Catherine was in the portable crib they'd also picked up, along with a sheet and blanket, and was well into her nighttime routine.

Braiding her hair, Brenda glanced around the huge suite with a sense of wellbeing. She'd washed her hair and showered that morning at the base, and now gathered a few things to change into for bed. When the door finally opened and Doug came out wearing running pants with his tee shirt, he nodded to her and headed for the other bed which he would share with his father. Thankfully they were king-sized beds, for everyone had agreed they wanted to be together in the same room. The prospect of sharing a bed with Bobby brought back memories of their childhood, and she knew that he would probably wake her up with an arm flung over her face, but it was only for one night until they got back so she would have to put up with it. And with everybody in one room, she felt safer.

"Brenda, you go next," Abe told her, for he was at the phone and ready to make a call to his sister. "I don't mind waiting—and Celia will want all the details."

"Okay," she smiled, watching Doug sit down on the side facing their bed before she ducked into the bathroom. Quickly brushing her teeth with the things they'd bought from the hotel clerk, she rinsed her mouth and then ran a warm washcloth over her face, wiping off the grime and what little makeup that hadn't melted off in the heat. Looking at her reflection, she remembered the strength of Doug's jaw beneath her hands as she'd cut his hair, and the strong arch of his neck and back as he'd bent over the sink. It had given her a sense of empowerment, ordering him around and moving him into different positions. She'd taken charge of him, and it felt good to be in charge. Especially with a man, even if it was only her brother-in-law. Staring at herself, she whispered the affirmation that they'd all said before, hoping she really believed it.

"We're going to be alright," she repeated, eyeing herself in the mirror, "all of us."

_**Doug choked for air, pulling at the hands clamped around his neck as he was lifted off his feet. **_Once again he was face to face with the giant, and then as the world dimmed he was thrown hard down to the floor, so hard he'd felt the skin of his back tear open. It came after him again, picking him up and smashing him into the wall, so that it broke beneath their combined weight and they fell through. He screamed in terror, scrambling away as fast as he could and fighting back but to no avail. Then he was beneath the table with the ax shattering the last few pieces of board separating them. He gasped and struggled to escape, only to have his head struck again in a stunning blow. Reeling, he reached to swipe at the blood streaming into his eyes, struggling to see what was coming. Then suddenly he was on all fours again, his outstretched hand taking the final blow that cut off his fingers. Pain shot up his arm and he yelled in pain, lifting his bloodied hand to stare at the stumps left behind by the ax. And then he saw Lynne standing in the doorway, her face a bloated and bloody mess, just behind the giant who stood smiling and laughing at him.

"Doug, wake up! It's only a nightmare!" his father's voice ordered, and he opened his eyes. Staring up at the darkened face of his father, he gasped for breath, his hand clenched in a muscle spasm that ached well up into his shoulder. His brow was beaded with perspiration and he glanced around in fear, expecting to see the giant of his wife's corpse standing there.

"See? It was only a dream, Doug," he repeated, relaxing his grip on his shoulder. "Try to calm down."

"Doug, are you okay?" Brenda soothed, kneeling at the side of the bed. Only the nightlight's faint glow from the bathroom allowed them to barely see each other.

"Scared the daylights out of me," he father sighed, relaxing back down into his pillows. "What you were dreaming must have been pretty bad."

He felt Brenda's hand touch his arm, just above the cast. "Your hand—is it a spasm?"

Glancing down at the sight of his twisted fingers, he grimaced at the pain. "Yeah—could you bring me a glass of water?"

"Sure," she replied, getting up and going into the bathroom.

He turned to his father. "I woke her up too," he said with regret. "Maybe we should have gotten separate rooms."

"She wanted it this way," he whispered back, leaning back when she came toward them again.

"Here—you want the Flexeril?"

"Yeah, thanks—I forgot to take it, sorry."

She handed him one tablet and watched him take it. "It's probably too much, with the painkillers. You might have a hard time getting up though."

He set the glass back down on the table. "I'm really sorry I woke you both. Bobby okay?"

She glanced back over one shoulder. "He'll sleep through anything."

"What were you dreaming about, son?"

He ran a hand over his face, noting the way Brenda sat at the end of the bed. Shaking his head, he took a deep breath. "I was being attacked by the big one again—Pluto I think he was called."

Brenda froze visibly.

"Oh, is that all?"

He glanced over his shoulder at his father, shifting to his back with his pillow high behind his shoulder blades. Staring at the ceiling, he admitted the truth. "I saw Lynne again…not the real Lynne though."

"Doug, you shouldn't have tortured yourself, looking into that body bag…"

"I had to Dad…I had to say goodbye," he said quietly, sensing Brenda finally relax.

"You need to get out all the old photographs of her," she said softly, looking in his direction. "That will help change the way you're seeing her."

"She's right," his father agreed with a soft yawn. "When your mother was so sick and lost so much weight, I got out all the old photo albums—remember that?"

He nodded, remembering as if it was from another life, not his. Then it dawned on him that his father had also lost his wife, and maybe he should be more open with him because of it. It was something they'd never discussed, his mother's death, not even after she'd gone. He remembered being angry about it then, and decided that he must never to the same thing to Catherine, or to anyone else. But he did remember the photographs.

"Why don't we all try to get back to sleep?" Abe suggested, punching his pillow under his head as he settled on his side.

"What time is it?" Brenda asked as she got up.

Abe reached behind him for his watched and lit up the face. "It's two-thirty…got another six hours, if we're lucky."

He watched Brenda move back toward her bed and climb in as his father settled back to sleep. Listening to the sounds of the room, he eventually heard the sound of his father's soft occasional snore, comforting in its familiarity. Waiting for the muscle relaxant to take effect, he worked his fingers out of their knots and stared into the darkness. After some time Brenda turned over, and he heard her soft sigh as his own eyes closed.


	6. Chapter 6 A Resting Place

_**Chapter 6 A Resting Place**_

Doug and his father dropped them off first, and as the big sedan finally pulled into their empty driveway Brenda's throat went dry. With pounding heart she stared up at the second floor, eyeing the opened curtains at her parents' bedroom and her own star-patterned curtains in the top left corner of the house. She was aware of the emergency brake engaging before Abe's door opened. He got out and the car dipped slightly. No one else moved, though he stretched and yawned, obviously waiting for them to get out. Clutching her purse she hooked the diaper bag and lifted it from the floor, not daring to look sideways at Doug or Catherine. Climbing out, she set the bag on the driveway and looked at Abe.

He met her gaze before glancing away up the street. She sensed he was giving her a moment to try to adjust to being home. It was touching, the way he was unassuming yet always seemed to know the right thing to do. _Just like his son._

She heard Doug's door open on the other side of the car and Catherine's soft protests as he took her out of her car seat. She turned her head as he settled her on his good shoulder, meeting her gaze. Wishing she could see his eyes behind the dark glasses, she nevertheless sensed that he understood her hesitancy. Neither he nor his father was going to rush them, even though they said nothing.

"A bit hot out here," Abe finally drawled, leaning back against the car. He glanced toward Bobby's side, wondering why he hadn't gotten out yet.

Brenda looked at him pleadingly, but he finally straightened. "I'll pop the trunk and get your bags," he said casually.

As he did the front passenger door opened and Bobby climbed out, not meeting her gaze. "I'll help," he croaked, moving around the back to the trunk.

She looked at Doug again as Catherine patted his cheek. "Dat-dah, dat-dah," she sang softly, lifting her gaze heavenward and staring up into the sky.

Tears filled her eyes as she imagined Catherine looking up toward heaven for her mother. Unable to witness the sweet wonder in her little eyes, she shifted her attention to the tiny circular movement of Doug's hand upon her little back. She remembered him doing the same thing to her mother's arm, trying to comfort her as she lay dying.

"We'll see you to the door," Doug said quietly, and she nodded, wiping at her eyes. Starting up the walk, she was grateful for his quiet presence as he followed her. She reached the porch step and paused, gazing toward the front entrance door.

They came to her side and Catherine reached out to her. Catching her hand, she held it and looked up at him.

"Can you come in with us," she said in a small voice. "Just for a little while?"

Again the dark glasses seemed to study her a moment. "Of course."

She nodded before stepping up, aware of and Bobby discussing something quietly by the car. She looked up at the front of the house as if she were in a dream. It was wrong, coming home without Mom and Dad, or their dogs. Then she remembered that in two days Beast would be arriving by unmarked military escort, along with the remains of their family. In the interim the investigation had to be concluded before they would be released.

Absently pulling her keychain from her purse she approached the door and unbolted it. Doug stood at her side, watching as she turned the lock and shoved open the heavy door. After a moment she entered, careful to step over the landslide of mail that had been shoved through slot. He followed close behind, Catherine softly sucking her pacifier.

It was cool inside, a relief from the heat and humidity of late August. Everything looked clean and in order, but the house was eerily quiet. Yet as she walked slowly into the living room she thought she could hear the echoes of the life she once knew and would never have again. Everything had changed, irrevocably so. As a lump formed in her throat as she stopped and looked around as if seeing it for the first time.

Doug moved toward the mantle, stopping there to remove his dark glasses. She studied the stiff set of his shoulders as his eyes traveled over the framed photos displayed there. He leaned toward the silver frame of his wedding photo, staring at it for some time before she heard him swallow with difficulty. Catherine laid her head down upon his collarbone, clutching his neck with wide eyes.

"I think we got everything," Abe announced from the foyer and she felt herself begin to panic. They were going to leave them here, all alone. She turned to see Bobby close the door, his expression blank.

Doug lifted his palm to the back of Catherine's head as his father nodded with a smile.

"We should be going," Abe said to Doug, who cradled the back of Catherine's head with his palm. "You two kids need anything?"

When neither answered Doug studied Bobby intently, making her even more nervous. "Give us a minute, Dad?"

As Bobby walked toward her she touched his arm encouragingly, but he didn't seem to notice.

"I'll put the air conditioning on," Abe agreed, wandering off down the hall.

"It's too quiet," Brenda stated, watching Bobby go to the answering machine. He pressed the button and jumped when their father's voice boomed out the message.

"You've reached the Carter residence," his voice announced, sounding vibrant and very much alive. "We can't come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number we'll get back to you."

Bobby continued to stare at the machine, and then suddenly he lifted his hand and pounded the wall, making her jump.

"They're not coming back!" he cried, looked from her to Doug, his face stricken. "Are they? They're never coming back!"

"No, Bobby," she said gently, "it's just the two of us now..."

His face crumpled before he rushed to the stairs, scrambling up them in haste. She looked to Doug for help, feeling her panic grow by the second.

"What should I do?" she croaked, "I don't know how to help him—or me!"

His eyes filled with concern and for a moment she thought he might put his arm around her. But he was holding Catherine and his other arm was casted.

"I don't know," he said, looking away as he pursed his lips. She sensed that he was having difficulty himself, just being here.

"You can you stay with us," she pleaded, "you and Catherine."

He glanced at her with obvious reluctance. "I—I don't know what to say, Brenda."

"Please, Doug? Catherine already has her own room here, and you can stay in Lynnie's room."

His eyes flashed with pain as he shook his head. "I don't think I could do that—"

"But I'm scared—I don't want to be here all alone!"

"You have Bobby," he reminded her, glancing toward the stairs with less confidence. "He'll be okay…just give yourselves some time."

Desperate to make them stay, she reached out and touched Catherine's arm. "But I'll miss taking care of her," she said, her heart breaking when Catherine reached for her. "And you'll need help with her."

"We have to adjust too," he said hoarsely, "just like you and Bobby need to. We're 20 minutes away, Brenda. If you need anything, just call and we'll be right over."

"Well the hot water's back on," Abe announced, coming back into the living room. He stopped abruptly, sensing he'd interrupted something. But when neither of them spoke, he pointed back over his shoulder. "Give it about a half hour until you use it, though—it'll take that long to heat back up...and make sure you check in with your security people after we leave."

Feeling a jolt of fear at the latter suggestion, she pleaded silently with Doug despite the resolve in his expression.

"We can't," he said in a strangled voice, and she knew that she had to accept his decision.

"All right," she breathed, nodding in agreement. "I'm sorry—you're right. Go ahead, we'll be fine, and thank you, Mr. Bukow—"

"Oh call me Abe," he waved dismissively. "We're past those formalities by now, don't you think?"Then he turned to Doug. "Let's see about getting the baby home—she looks like she's ready for her afternoon nap."

After he turned to leave Doug hesitated, searching her face. "You'll be fine," he repeated her own words. "You're home now."

Noting the steely expression in his eyes, she watched him follow his father out the door. Following them to the door, she punched the pad of the security system and held onto the door staring after them.

_It isn't fair, leaving us all alone here!_ she screamed after them. _You can't expect us to manage everything alone! We need help, and we want to be with you! You and Catherine are all we've got left!_

She stared at Doug's back, willing him to come back and save them just like he did after rescuing Catherine. But he descended the stairs, not seeing his father look back.

"You have a car, don't you?" he called as Doug stopped and turned around. He met her gaze with a frown. "That kitchen of yours will probably need some restocking."

Then she remembered her mother's Camry in the garage. "Mom's car is here," she answered. "She always leaves an extra set of keys for us in the kitchen."

"Good," he answered, smiling and waving as he went to his car and opened the door.

Doug stood watching her, sunglasses in place again. She watched him shift Catherine to his shoulder and for a moment she thought he would change his mind. But then he turned and nodded to his father, who had opened the rear door. He bent and placed Catherine in her car seat, then went around to the other side of the car to get in next to her.

She kept telling herself it was better this way, even though he and Catherine had become so much more important to them in the past week. Now, watching them leave tore at her heart.

They backed out of the driveway slowly, turning to face the direction they would take away from them. Abe tooted the horn and waved his arm out the window, but she didn't see Doug at all. Watching until they disappeared around the corner, she closed the door with a sigh and leaned back against it. Looking up the stairs she thought of going to Bobby but decided against it. He would be down when he was ready, she told herself. Before, he'd always spent hours in his room on his computer or listening to music. So, taking Abe's advice she went into the kitchen to see what was needed.

First she dug in the junk drawer and found her mother's spare keys, opened the door to the garage and stared at the white Camry sitting there. With a sigh she closed the door and picked up a note pad. After a moment she started to make a list of whatever came to mind, then checked the refrigerator. Quickly feeling overwhelmed at all the things that needed to be done, she worried about the things she had no idea must be done. Mom had always taken care of everything for them, and she worried about what bills would have to be paid and how to deal with Bobby's upcoming school year. It was now up to her to do whatever needed to be done, yet as she pondered her situation she was filled with longing for her mother, as well as for her formerly carefree life.

_**Doug leaned back against the bedroom door, closing his eyes as he raised a hand to his aching head. **_ His skull felt like a spike had been driven through it and he felt dizzy. Worse, the enormity of his situation pressed upon him, suffocating him. Feeling abandoned and terrified at the prospect of the future, he tried to banish the memory of that photograph he'd seen at the Carter's house, the one of their wedding day. Lynne's face had been radiant with happiness, but her unexpected and abrupt departure from this world now left him reeling with pain. He groaned and slid down the length of the door, opening his eyes to study the room in disbelief. This was their bedroom, but it felt foreign. It was no longer going to be their bedroom…only his. He choked back a sob of grief and shifted his attention to the voices from downstairs.

He was grateful for his father and Aunt Celia, who'd both taken time off from their jobs to help them. He could smell the dinner Celia was preparing, and when Catherine squealed in delight he pictured her strapped into her highchair munching Cheerios as she waited for her dinner. He'd been ordered to lie down until things were ready, and he'd obeyed without questioning, too tired to do anything else. He stared at the bed and ran a shaking hand through his hair, unable to bring himself to lie upon on the bed he and Lynne had shared together for the past three years. And would share no longer.

Forcing himself to snap out of it, he told himself that he had to keep going, no matter what. They would be watching him, his father and aunt, and if he didn't act as normal as possible they would be forced to take over—something he couldn't afford. So getting slowly up, he walked toward the bathroom to splash water over his face. Once he crossed the threshold he stopped again, gazing dazedly at the renovations Lynne had made in there, painting the room a pale blue with sand colored trim. It was a peace offering, he remembered, meant to offset the feminine decorating style of the bedroom. He'd complained how the flowery and frilly décor made him feel out of place, and so she'd made the changes to surprise him. Now, pushing aside the shower curtain he remembered that night when he'd come home from work and she'd shown him what she'd done. Then he remembered how they'd made love together in the shower right afterward, the memory of it taking away his breath once again.

Gripping the door jamb hand he hung his head, pounding it with his fist until he forced himself to turn away. He had to go one, he had to forget the past and he had to change. Knowing they would soon be calling him down for a dinner he didn't really want, he strode toward the closet for a different shirt. Reaching up to slip off the sling off his shoulder, he dropped it over the chair and started to remove the army tee shirt he'd been given to wear. But his sore shoulder and heavily casted arm made it nearly impossible, and he wanted to shout in frustration. Trying different tactics, he finally managed to disengage himself from it, and threw it across the room. Opening the folding doors of the closet, he searched for something he wouldn't have to pull over his head and cast. Selecting an old dress shirt, he stretched and shrugged stiffly into it, glancing toward Lynne's side of the closet and halting.

He stared at the collection of her clothes, hats and bags hanging there. In the recesses of the closet hung a faint fragrance of her perfume, and with a cry of pain he pulled one of her blouses off the hanger and buried his face in it, inhaling its fragrance and finally letting himself go. Sobs tore at his chest as he ground his face into the material, using it to muffle his cries. Sinking into the easy chair, he vented all the anger and grief inside him, letting it drain from him like pus. Away melted the visions of her badly bloated face and horrified stare, replaced instead by the memory of her smile and sparkling eyes. He mourned the Lynne he knew before the attack, his loss intensifying until he threw back his head and cried silently. His ribs ached and his side burned, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He couldn't seem to stop, not until he was completely drained.

Unaware of how long he sat there, he finally lifted his head and ordered himself to get up. Catherine needed him, but he knew that he needed her even more. Formulating a plan of action, he decided that he would play with her after dinner and read her two or three of her favorite books, then tuck her into bed and sit with her until she fell asleep. He'd do it all night, he resolved—it would keep him from the prospect of lying in the queen sized bed he'd once shared with his wife. There he knew he'd find no rest, only memories to torment him in his loneliness.

"_**Abe, he's been up there an awfully long time,"**_ Celia Harris stated as she glanced toward the stairs, shaking her head.

Abe patted Catherine's back and was rewarded by the tiny burp that erupted from her body. He glanced at his older sister. "You're right, he has."

Turning from the sink, she stood drying her hands with a dish towel. "Well?" she prompted, holding his gaze and nodding in that direction. "Aren't you going to check on him?"

"No, I'm not," he answered, lifting Catherine high above his head as she chuckled with glee and grabbed at his hair. "I'm going to let him be, Ceil. He hasn't had a minute alone since this whole thing happened, except when he was unconscious."

"And that's a good thing?"

He lowered Catherine back to his shoulder and patted her back. "He's lost his wife, and he's got to face that reality—the sooner the better if you ask me."

"Who's asking you?" she shot back, reaching for a tray and setting a plate atop it. "At least take some dinner up to him—he's on all kinds of medications and needs something in his stomach, especially with the antibiotics he's on—where did you put those pills, anyway?"

"Here, take the baby while I handle that," he ordered, passing Catherine over to her with a wink. "I think she needs a diaper change, by the way."

Celia took her over one shoulder, sniffing the air above her. "Thanks a lot—but be aware that _your_ grief may not be _Doug's _kind of grief. Or maybe he might need something that you necessarily didn't?"

He planted his hands on his hips. "What are you talking about?"

She concentrated on the potatoes she was spooning onto the plate. "He's a young man, for God's sake—"

"So was I when I lost Marilyn!"

"You were 52," she complained, looking up at him. "He's only 28—that's a big difference! And you had time to say goodbye to Marilyn—he had maybe a second?"

"It doesn't matter at what age you lose a wife—it's still losing the woman you love."

"Just don't assume he'll handle things the same way," she stated, spearing a chicken breast and placing it next to the potatoes." He's got a baby girl—you had a 15 year old to take care of."

"We did fine, didn't we?" he hissed back, keeping his voice low. "Don't interfere where you shouldn't Ceil."

"You did fine? "she whispered, pointing the fork toward the upstairs. "That boy grew up with virtually no mother and now he's lost his wife too—what do you think it's doing to him right now? If you ask me, he should marry again after his year's up."

Abe lifted both hands in frustration. "What _year?_"

"The year of mourning—he can't marry before a year of mourning has passed—it's just the decent thing to do, in honor of his wife's memory."

He waved a hand. "I'm not getting into religion with you, and you'd better not force anything on him either—"

"Force what?" a voice interrupted them.

They turned to see Doug standing halfway down the stairs, gripping the railing with one hand. His hair was mussed and his face pale, but his gaze was clear. Pretending not to have heard his question, they busied themselves in the kitchen, ignoring him as he came inside and looked expectantly at them.

"What had she better not force on me?" he asked his father, one brow raised in challenge.

"Oh our baby girl is so smelly!" Ceil smiled, hurrying past him. "Supper's on the table dear!"

He followed her departure with a puzzled frown and turned back to his father. "Dad?"

"Nothing," he sighed, looking up from covering the leftovers. "Don't worry about her, Son—she means well..."

Doug reached for one of his pill bottles and ran the water, taking a glass from the cupboard. "Tell me," he drawled, glancing sideways at him. "I'm curious."

"It's just some religious thing, nothing to worry about," he waved, sliding the container into the refrigerator before he straightened and faced him. "Sorry we didn't wait supper on you."

Swallowing the pill he turned and leaned back against the sink. "I want to know what you were talking about."

"It was just something about a period of mourning, that's all."

Pulling away from the sink he went to the table and picked up the other bottle, reading its label before opening it and swallowing another one. "I don't like secrets in the family," he said, lifting a hand to wipe the moisture from his lower lip.

"What did you just take?" Abe wanted to know, "speaking of secrets."

"The antibiotic, then a Percocet—why?"

"You don't want to get dependent on the painkillers, you know."

"Don't worry—I only take one a day, instead of every four hours as prescribed," he breathed, seating himself and picking up a fork. He stared at the plate a moment. "She cut everything up," he said in a reverent tone, glancing up at him. "She knew I couldn't cut anything…"

"That's your Aunt Ceil, always two steps ahead. But now that I think of it, she even cut mine in pieces, so don't think you're being singled out for special treatment."

Doug speared a piece of chicken and popped it into his mouth, looking up. Swallowing, he waved the fork at him. "This is special treatment, and you know it," he said, flashing a smile Abe never would have expected. Relaxing a bit, he breathed a prayer of thanks for his sister, who'd always had a special touch with everything she did. And she had been like a mother to Doug, when she wasn't working or taking of her own kids.

"There, all nice and clean," she announced, reentering the kitchen. She nodded approvingly as she saw Doug eating. "I'm giving her a bath before bed, just to warn you."

He swallowed and smiled up at her, then at Catherine. "This is delicious—thanks, for everything Aunt Ceil."

She sat down at his side while Abe threw her a knowing look. _See, I told you he'd be alright…_

"Speaking of everything Doug, I wanted to speak with you about something," she began, setting out the large puzzle pieces Catherine liked playing with. Reaching eagerly for them, she started stacking them up between them as she cooed happily.

_Oh no, here we go again..._Abe worried.

"About the funeral…" she started, interrupting herself as he stopped eating and stared at his plate. "Oh dear—I don't mean to upset you. It's just that people have been asking about the arrangements."

"I told her they're scheduled to arrive on Wednesday," he said gently, watching Doug slowly sit back and focus on his daughter.

"We could begin shiva that evening—I've already called the temple to make arrangements, it that's okay with you."

When he didn't answer, Abe pulled out a chair and sat down. "Look Doug, I know Lynne wasn't Jewish but shiva is really for you, and for us…"

He laid his fork down and looked his father in the eye, his expression blank.

"It will help provide some closure for you, dear," Ceil said gently.

"I don't want closure," he said quietly, his eyes on Catherine as if he was torn about it.

"You remember we did it for your mother," Abe stated. "It does help, Son. Even though it's a bit of a strain, with people coming around to offer their sympathies, but they also end up telling you wonderful things about the person you lost, things you find you're glad they shared. And it's a way of giving your wife a memorial among the community."

He shook his head. "I don't know if I can manage that, Dad."

Catherine cooed and clapped her hands, looking up at him. He smiled wanly, looking drained.

"It'll give everyone a chance to meet Catherine," Ceil bragged. "No one else has met her yet, have they?"

He looked up at that idea, holding her gaze. "I'll think about it," he sighed. "When do you need to know?"

She grimaced. "Tomorrow."

He leaned back in his chair, absently gazing across the room. "I want her to be buried with her parents."

"That's fine, dear—perfectly acceptable. Would you want the rabbi to say a few words, assuming Brenda and Bobby want their mother's pastor to do the service?"

He looked even more troubled at the mention of Brenda and Bobby. "I doubt they've planned that far ahead…maybe you could call them, and help them work out the details? I haven't a clue how to do a funeral."

"Thank God for that," Abe sighed, tensing when they both stared at him in disbelief. "You know what I mean."

"I'll give Brenda a call tonight—you'll be here if she wants to talk to you about it."

Doug studied them a moment. "Why would Brenda want to talk to me?"

Abe looked at Ceil, who had that knowing look about her right then.

Abe cleared his throat. "You're Bobby's guardian, you know."

Doug's face blanched. "I'm what?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, with all the excitement…let me get the documents," he said, getting up and going to the desk where he'd put them. Bringing the envelope back, he handed it to Doug, who opened it and scanned the contents. He looked up in shock.

"Ethel did this?"

"She did, right before they went on vacation," Abe sighed, shaking his head. "Smart woman…though there's no way she could have known."

Doug looked deeply touched. "She made Lynne and me Bobby's guardians?"

"Seems the natural thing to do," Ceil affirmed, eying him thoughtfully. "I'm sure she made the right choice."

Doug looked at her in shock. "But she was thinking of Lynne, not me."

"You know how much she loved you, Son," Abe soothed. "It was written all over her face whenever I saw you two together."

He sat back. "That means—I'm sole guardian now?"

"Appears you are—there's a hearing scheduled, coming right up. You'd better tell them as soon as you can."

He nodded, glancing at the date. "This is all happening way too fast…"

"We'll both help you, Doug," Ceil assured him, patting his hand. "Your father is going to take you to all your medical appointments, since you can't drive with one hand yet."

"I can't?"

"Better not," Abe warned. "You don't want to risk being stopped."

"No, I suppose not."

"Well you've got several messages on your answering machine from the Army doctors—actually they've set you up for two post-op visits back to back with local surgeons at the medical center, day after tomorrow in fact—one for your abdomen, the other for your hand. And I think there's one from occupational therapy."

Doug braced his head in his hands. "Unbelievable."

"We'll help you with whatever you need," Ceil reassured him. "I'll call a nonsectarian funeral home, get Brenda's input and make the arrangements. We'll do shiva here right after burial."

_**Doug stood in the rain, oblivious to its steady drizzle until a cold trickle slid between his shoulder blades. **_ At its icy touch he shivered, looking up in surprise at the dark clouds overhead as if seeing them for the first time. He became aware of standing alone above the yawning hole of earth before him, shaking himself from the way it seemed to call to him and hold his attention to the white coffin holding his wife prisoner. He glanced to each side, finally noting the other coffins in which her parents lay. He had to go, he told himself, if only for Catherine's sake. She was home by now, his father and aunt having taken her away right after the service.

Heaving a great sigh he gripped the handle of the shovel that had been planted at his side, realizing they must be waiting for him out there somewhere. He couldn't see the men hired to dig the graves and fill them back in, but he knew he was holding them up. Shutting out the voices compelling him to jump in and be buried alongside them, he scooped up the loose dirt and flung it over the pure white veneer of her coffin. Watching it splay and fan over the surface before sliding to the bottom of the hole, he added two more shovelfuls and drove the instrument back into the mound of dirt. Then he stepped back and stared one last time, whispering his goodbyes.

The men came out of hiding, strolling leisurely toward him as he turned and left. Shoving his good hand into his pocket he headed for the road. It wasn't just because Catherine was waiting or because the house was filling with those who would come to pay their condolences, or even because if he didn't his father would come looking for him. It was simply because he was too tired and cold to stay any longer. In fact, he was too tired to do anything but lose himself in some much needed sleep, if at all possible. Sweet oblivion had eluded him most of the past three days, and he was feeling its effect.

Finally gaining the road he walked blindly through the rain, paying no attention to the maze-like intersections crossing before him. On the way in he'd been too exhausted to pay attention to the route, nor had he been able to face the rows of passing headstones, crosses and statues. Surely he'd eventually come to the main road that led out of the cemetery, and with that thought he finally looked up, trying to get his bearings.

A car blinked its lights, startling him. Squinting through his new rain-splattered glasses, he told himself that whoever was signaling could not mean him. Ducking his head, he continued on his course, wherever it would lead him. Then a horn honked and the lights flashed again. He stared covertly in that direction, unable to recognize the car. It wasn't his father's or even Ceil's. Then the door opened and he saw Brenda's head pop up. She lifted an arm and waved at him, calling his name.

"Doug! Over here!" she cried, the wind carrying away her voice. Not wanting her to get herself wet, he quickened his pace and approached the passenger side, bending low as the window rolled down.

"Get in, silly!" she scolded, "you're getting soaked!"

Pursing his lips, he decided it made sense and did as she wanted. Sliding onto the seat, he closed the door and leaned back, turning his head toward her.

"I've been waiting nearly an hour," she said, turning up the fan. He felt a blast of heat and shivered, covering it up by removing his glasses.

"Sorry."

"You'd better be," she said quietly, and when he met her gaze she shrugged. He stared at her, thinking she looked too bright and golden for such a dark day. Her blonde hair lay along her side like a long tail, curling from the humidity against her black raincoat.

"Here," she stated, offering him a handkerchief that was embroidered with purple flowers. "I'm sure yours is too wet to be of use."

He took it and started drying the lenses, avoiding her questioning look.

"Why did you wait for me?" he had to ask.

"Did you actually know how to get back?" she asked as she put the car in reverse and maneuvered it onto the narrow lane.

"No," he admitted as they started off at a slow speed. "I thought I did."

"That's why I waited."

"…where's Bobby?"

"At your house with everyone else," she stated, glancing at his wet jacket and collar. "You'll have to change before anyone sees you."

He gazed out the window, exhausted at the prospect of facing all those people. "I doubt anyone will notice."

They drove for some time and his thoughts drifted back to the cemetery. Suddenly she was slowing down, and he saw they'd pulled up to a take-out window. Glancing at her covertly he watched as she ordered at the speaker and pulled forward. After paying, she handed him a latte.

"Drink it all," she ordered, "it will fortify you for all your guests."

"I don't want any," he lied, his senses tempted by the warm scent filling the car, "and they're not my guests—it's shiva, that's all."

She pulled into one of the parking spaces, keeping the engine running. Sipping her coffee, she eyed him pointedly. "Does that not mean your house is full of people whose sole purpose it to comfort you and Catherine?"

He lifted the cup to his lips and drank instead of answering her.

"Good—you deserve it, after standing out there in the cold."

The warm cup thawed his cold hand as the flavorful brew spread its warmth down inside him. "It's good," he admitted, gazing out the windshield. "Thanks, I think."

She backed up and started out, and before he knew it they were pulling alongside the front lawn of his house. The driveway was filled with cars, as was half the block. He stared toward the warm glow of light coming from his windows and sighed, nursing his coffee.

"We should go in," she breathed as she stared at the windows.

Knowing it was useless sitting out in the cold, he opened the door and got out. Waiting until she came to his side, he let her precede him as they started up the walk. At the door she turned and touched his arm, squeezing it encouragingly. But she said nothing more.

_**Bobby nudged her with his elbow but she refused to look at him. **_Keeping her eyes fixed on Doug, she studied him now that she had the chance, while he wasn't aware of it. She'd promised Abe she'd collect him and bring him back, only now letting herself ascertain his condition. During the drive here it had been difficult and too close to study him, but after three days of not seeing him the changes were evident. Physically, the heavy cast he'd worn had somehow been exchanged for a shorter one which extended only halfway up his arm; though he kept it close to his side his empty jacket sleeve would swing away and reveal its presence. From time to time she could see his remaining fingers flex in an absent manner, and wondered how painful it must be. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, testifying to sleepless nights although she had to admit the bruising on his face had finally vanished. Lines of strain around his mouth appeared whenever he answered questions, adding to his look of exhaustion. She wondered how he would endure the next week of shiva, opening his house every day for services and calling hours. The room was filled with people, but she wondered how many of them actually knew her sister. Still, the closeness of this community was impressive, for even if they didn't know Lynnie they came for Doug and his family. And she suspected many came to meet Catherine. She couldn't help comparing the sparse turnout at her own family's wake in the funeral home, which had only spanned a few hours in time.

"This is weird," Bobby whispered, startling her. She glanced up at him just as he stuffed a knish into his mouth. His eyes scanned the room with suspicion before he swallowed and met her gaze. "We don't know any of these people," he whispered. " I feel really out of place—can we go?"

"We just got here," she hissed back, watching Doug's release from the elderly woman. He retrieved Catherine from his father just after he finished lifting her heavenward to make her laugh.

"_You_ just got here," he corrected, reaching for an egg roll from a woman who was passing them around the room. "I've been here for two hours already."

"We're here for Doug and Catherine," she insisted, watching Catherine again become the center of attention among the group by the window. Doug lounged against the wall there, not saying much as far as they could tell. Then an elderly woman began to relate a story the group concentrated upon. Ceil came out from the kitchen with a basket of bagels, eyeing him meaningfully as she nodded for him to join her. His brows lifted but he glanced back at the group as if waiting for his chance to break away. Brenda smiled at her as she waved an arm for them to come over, thankful for everything she had done to help them arrange their parent's wake. Doug had not been able to bring himself to attend, though, nor had he wanted Lynne's casket to be displayed there. It had caused a problem with the funeral home but they had finally agreed to list her name and let them display a photo collage of her instead. All this Ceil had handled with great tact and sensitivity, staying to help explain to whoever had called and asked about Lynne. She'd insisted it was simply not their custom to display the dead, and that Doug's wishes should be respected. To her credit, she'd handled the situation perfectly.

"How _long_ do we have to stay?"

"Til everyone leaves… I told you that."

"Then I'm going to watch tv in the den," he sighed, wandering off in that direction. She saw him clamp a hand on Doug's shoulder as he passed him by while Doug turned his head to watch him go, a look of yearning in his expression. But then he turned back to the woman' s story, nodding politely from time to time.

Brenda followed Ceil back into the kitchen to help, glancing at the clock to see that it was 7:30 p.m. Calling hours had started at 6, and they had a half hour more to go. As she took a tray out into the living room, she watched a man approach Doug and take him aside. Recognizing him as the rabbi who'd prayed at the cemetery, she noted how Doug leaned close and nodding, looking even more upset at whatever was said. The rabbi patted him on the back and took his leave, moving moved slowly through the crowd toward the door. Breathing a sigh of relief, she took it as a sign that the exodus was about to begin. In her opinion, Doug didn't look like he could take much more.

By the time the last guest left and all the discarded plates and plastic ware collected they were all drained. Filing one by one into the kitchen to recover, they waited as Ceil brewed a fresh pot of coffee and Doug fed Catherine on his lap. Brenda sat opposite them, elbow on the table and stomach growling. This was when they would get to eat, she knew from Ceil's briefing earlier. She studied him tiredly as he spooned rice and turkey baby food into his daughter, his tie gone and his collar spread over the navy jacket he'd changed into. The black one had been soaked from the rain, and as she covertly studied him she decided the color brought out the blue in his eyes quite nicely. He'd transferred the black button and ribbon of mourning to the left lapel of this jacket, and now absently reached up to pull the yarmulke off his head, setting it aside. Catherine reached for it and was about to stuff the silver threaded edge into her mouth before he eased it from her grip. Abe came in and laughed, taking it and removing his own before he set them on the ledge. At that moment Doug looked up he found her watching him, and to her surprise smiled in relief as he stretching back lower into his chair.

_Thank you,_ his eyes seemed to say, and she nodded gently, switching her attention to Ceil. To her surprise his aunt eyed her meaningfully, shifting her gaze back to Doug but saying nothing. She stepped up to him and lifted Catherine into her arms.

"Our baby girl was so good today," she praised her, kissing her cheek and making a face. "But she does have a sticky face."

"Aunt Ceil, do you mind getting her a bottle?" Doug practically yawned, looking too tired to get up.

"Of course, dear—you look exhausted. You should turn in early tonight."

"I might just do that," he admitted, watching Bobby search the casserole dishes for something he wanted. With an exclamation of joy he carried the two he selected over to the table.

"Look what I found—stuffed shells and spinach squares," he announced as Brenda turned to get some paper plates. "Finally we get to eat."

"You've been eating hors d'oeuvres all evening," Brenda laughed, meeting Doug's amused gaze.

"He's a growing boy," Abe offered, patting Doug's head. "Though I think he eats even more than you did at his age."

"I doubt it," Doug snorted, leaning forward with interest. "He's got a foot in height more to fill up."

"One advantage to being tall," Bobby shrugged, serving the two portions to everyone. "Aunt Ceil, you want some?"

"No dear—I think I'll just have some of that salad. How about you, Brenda?"

"I'd love some salad, but I want this too," she answered, ignoring Bobby's guffaw.

"I love a woman with an appetite," Abe confessed, chucking Catherine under her chubby chin.

When Ceil came over, put the baby in her high chair between Doug and her own place, she finally sat down and huffed out a breath of relief. "My feet are killing me."

"You'd never know it," Doug said after swallowing a half shell. "You were amazing, Aunt Ceil, thanks."

"Let's just say I've been to too many of these," she said, shaking her head.

"Thank you," Brenda added, "we wouldn't have known what to do with our parents either, if you hadn't stepped in and helped."

"Anytime you need anything call me," she answered.

"Spoon me some of those, will you Bobby?"

"Sure," he answered, looking at Doug. "Want some water?"

"That would be great, thanks Bobby," he drawled.

"I'll help," she offered, getting up to go to Catherine, whom she kissed and tickled just to hear her laugh.

"This is really good," Abe declared, looking up. "One benefit of shiva."

"So we have to go through this every night, for a week?" Bobby asked as he served the water.

"It does," Abe declared, eyeing Doug. "You should take something to help you sleep, Son. They'll be here at 9 in the morning for the service."

Doug groaned softly, lifting his glass. "If I do, I'll never be able to get up for that."

"Just try it for the first two days then I'll tell them no more," Ceil assured him. "You need your rest and they'll understand."

He nodded. "That would be great. I've got to get into the store by then."

Bobby waved his fork at him. "You have any nightmares, Doug?"

His face blanched for e moment before he nodded. "Yeah—how about you?"

"Every night," he admitted sheepishly, glancing at Brenda. "Then I started leaving some music on to fall asleep by—it helped."

"I'll give it a try," he answered, glancing back at Brenda. "How've you been managing?" he asked gently.

She shrugged. "I fall asleep okay, but usually wake every night with one."

"You could all use some counseling," Ceil suggested. "It wouldn't hurt."

"I don't know when I'll have the time," Doug sighed, eyeing Bobby. "When's school start?"

"The 27th," he replied, looking up. "I'm actually looking forward to it…my junior year."

"My classes don't' start until September 9th" she added, looking at Catherine. "I can you with her till then, but I'll try to arrange my schedule to fit everything in around the same block."

"You don't have to do that," Doug answered, glancing at Ceil who was starting at him pointedly.

"She does, Doug—your father has to go back to work and so do I, so you'll need her unless you want us to help you find daycare for—"

"No daycare," he stated firmly, glancing at his daughter. "Catherine can come with me. My assistant manager can handle the customers and I have room in my office for her."

Abe and Ceil exchanged looks but he nodded. "That's great you can do that, Son, but I wouldn't pass by Brenda's offer."

She eyed him with a tiny smile. "I love being with her so it's no problem," she shrugged.

Doug nodded but looked suddenly drained. "I'm beat—I think I'll take Catherine up and get her ready—"

"You can hardly give her a bath with that hand," Ceil protested, getting up to pat his head as if he were 7 years old. "I'm giving her a bath and you can tuck her in, how's that?"

He looked up at her with a half smile. "Okay boss."

She bent to the baby and started to unstrap her. "I am the boss til you take better care of yourself."

"And till you come back home with me," Abe reminded her.

"When do you have to leave?" Brenda asked, watching her pick up Catherine.

"We'll drive back on Sunday, so you've all got nearly a week."

Doug got up and stretched his back before following her toward the stairs. Then he turned back and lifted a hand. "Thanks for the ride Brenda. You both can stay the night if you want."

Bobby looked at her but shook his head. "We've got to feed Beast and take him out."

Doug closed his eyes. "I forgot about the dog!"

"I'll follow them home, if that's what you're worried about Doug," Abe offered. "It's no problem."

He nodded, smiling at them. "Well goodnight then—thanks for everything."

They watched him start to climb the stairs and Brenda eyed his father. "Is he going to be alright?" she whispered, but he nodded.

"I think so—we'll take care of him so don't you worry either. Now if you two are ready why don't we go check out things at your place?"

"Good idea," Bobby breathed while Brenda started to gather up the remains of the meal.

"Thanks, Abe," she sighed, "just give me a minute to help clean up."

"Don't bother—Ceil will do it, she thrives on cleaning up a mess."

"Okay," she laughed, shaking her head. "We'll sure miss you both when you go home."

_c. 2010 by Christine Levitt _


	7. Chapter 7 New Beginnings

_**Chapter 7 New Beginnings**_

Doug turned his head on the pillow, vaguely aware of a sounds coming from downstairs. With a tired sigh he turned onto his side and slid his good arm under the spare pillow. Snagging it, he pulled it close and buried his face in the fresh clean scent. He was somewhat aware of how warm the room felt and shoved the thin blanket down his chest, praying to return to the land of sweet oblivion where no dreams disturbed him, good or bad. But then he heard them again, muffled voices interrupted by soft singing. Furrowing his brow, he pried open his eyes and was surprised by the dim light of morning. Listening more intently, he focused on whatever might have happened to disturb them so early in the day. His mind was fuzzy, no doubt from his meds, and he glanced toward the crib feeling disoriented. The baby shifted in her sleep as he woke more fully, glancing toward the door of her room and finally realizing what was happening.

_They're here, in the house…_

Alarmed, he stretched toward his watch where he'd left it under her Tigger lamp and pressed the light—9:00! He flung the sheet from his legs and pulled himself from the bed, rising a bit unsteadily and supporting his casted wrist as he approached the crib. Leaning over he peered down at her sweet smile and breathed a prayer of thanks that she hadn't awoke. Padding quietly toward her door he opened it, peered out into the empty hall and crossed into the master bedroom. Without time to shower he lifted his dress pants from the chair and stepped into them. Pulling them up, he zipped the fly as he went toward the window and gazed down at the half dozen cars in the driveway. Rushing to the closet he pulled a clean shirt from its hanger and aimed the sleeve toward his arm. Trying to manipulate it into the sleeve he blew out a breath of frustration and forced himself to relax. Though his thoughts shot in different directions he made a mental note to be sure his father woke him tomorrow, before they arrived. Then he bit the collar of the shirt and stretched the cuff over his cast, feeling a dull ache at the stumps of his fingers.

_What will they think? _he could hear Aunt Celia's voice say, _that you've no respect for those who've come here early just to serve the family? Or maybe they'll think you haven't time for God in your busy schedule?_

"They should realize that I haven't slept in weeks," he replied softly, guiding the shirt up his arm. "And that the one night I do sleep, they wake me early the next morning."

By the time he descended the stairs and slipped into the back row they were already halfway through the service. As if unaware of his entrance no one turned or looked up from their siddurim as they stood reciting the ancient prayers. He picked one of the books up and opened it, flipping through the pages as he listened to the words and found the page. Finally glancing up, he met his father's worried frown with a nod, glancing toward the leader as he sang the trope. They switched to the psalms as he glanced toward the little red light on the baby monitor that stood on the corner table. At that moment it echoed the sound of Catherine turning over and the soft thump of her tiny fist hitting the side of the crib. She was a restless sleeper like her mother, not at all like he was, or had once been. At the memory of his wife he felt a jolt of pain in his chest and quickly redirected his thoughts back to the service.

"Page 256," the leader said in English before resuming his chanting. Doug turned there and they sat for the next section. Immersing himself in the ancient recitations he pleaded to be rescued by those same mercies of God, hanging onto each word as he prayed along with the others. They stood again, and he felt as if he were suddenly standing in the great assembly before the mountain and before God. Desperate for the comfort and rescue being promised therein, he cried out to his Maker as a glimmer of hope lit inside him. His eyes ate up the words, and when he felt an arm slip around his back his eyes filled with unshed tears. His father's voice drowned out the others as they lifted their voices in praise for the deliverance of God.

_**Brenda tugged at her dresser, easing it away from her door with some difficulty. **_When she had finally maneuvered it back into place she planted her hands upon her hips and stared at the locks on the door. She'd made Bobby install them the first night they came home, but now she frowned at them as well as her own paranoia. It was ridiculous, fearing that the two mutants would suddenly appear and try to hurt her again. She'd gone back with the others and seen what Doug had done to both of them, taking his own revenge but also satisfying hers. Still she couldn't help it—even if they were gone there could be others out there, waiting to get her. Long gone were her days of being bold and fearless, without a care in the world. That had all changed after one fateful night, and she knew she would never be the same again.

"There's no one out there," she said softly as she slid the chain off the lock. Turning the bolt she opened the door and glanced into the hall, listening for sounds of anything amiss. Down at the entrance to Bobby's room she saw Beasts's legs stretched halfway out into the hall, and they twitched as his throaty sigh echoed back to her. She lifted a hand to keep from laughing at the sound, but she was grateful for such a good watchdog, even if he was crazy sometimes.

Padding down the hall toward him, she bent and gently patted his side before continuing toward the stairs. Pausing at the top she looked down into the front entrance hall, finding nothing amiss. The thwack of the air conditioning kicked in, startling her a moment before she descended and went into the kitchen. Going to the sink she turned on the cold water, letting it run as she went to unlatch the garage door. Peeking into the dim light she studied her mother's car and decided everything was as undisturbed as she'd left it last night. Closing the door she went back to the faucet to fill the coffee pot for two. This she poured into the maker before going to the frig for the coffee. As she measured it out she made a mental list of things to do: call both insurance companies back, call the lawyer to confirm their appointment in two days, fill the car with gas, take Bobby shopping for school and finally drop him off at his friend's house. She had to remember to feed Beast early and call Ceil to see if they needed anything for the calling hours before she drove over there. After shiva she would stay for dinner again, and beyond that she dared not think. Bobby had insisted on spending the night at Neil's house despite her protests and pleas for understanding. No, he said, he'd had it with Jewish funerals and she would just have to learn to be alone in the house. She had wanted to call Abe for help, not wanting to bother Doug, but had decided against it. Bobby was right, though she hated to admit it.

The thought of being with the Bukowskis comforted her, even though it was going to be crowded and draining. They were the only family she and Bobby had now, and it didn't bother her at all that they were Jewish; in fact she was secretly intrigued by their religion and customs, especially since she'd seen the support the community had offered Doug in his grief. In stark contrast were the two calls she'd received from her parents' friends who'd offered to help but had not come in person. It made her angry to realize how alone she and Bobby were, and how poorly they compared with what Doug had been given. If it weren't for his aunt she'd have been left completely alone to handle all the details of something she'd had no prior experience in handling.

Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she added light cream and popped a half bagel in the toaster. Taking a sip, she was surprised how good it tasted, stronger than the last time she'd made it. Gazing around the kitchen she felt the stillness and silence of the house swallow her up. She wanted to get going but Bobby slept late every day he could. They had a lot of errands to run so that she could arrive at Doug's just before calling hours began. She wanted to help set up and entertained the thought of packing her overnight bag just in case. Surely it would be okay for her to stay in Catherine's room on the twin bed Lynne had bought for those late night feedings. Ceil had taken the guest room and Abe was sleeping on the sofa bed in the family room, but maybe Doug would welcome her staying with Catherine so he could get some well needed rest. Surely he wouldn't have a problem with her staying over, but she felt awkward asking him.

Telling herself not to worry too much, she turned on the radio and got up to get her bagel. Just as she took out the cream cheese she heard a scraping sound coming from the front porch. Freezing with alarm she listened more closely, this time hearing the thud of heavy boots on the porch steps. She rushed to the living room to peer outside from the edge of the curtain, gasping in fear when she saw a huge man come around from behind the truck parked in the driveway. Squinting through the lacy panel covering the window, she tried to read the sign on the driver's side door and exhaled shakily. It was a landscaper, and she remembered her mother saying something about getting the front yard in shape before winter. But why had he come up onto the porch, she wondered. Maybe he left a bill there for her, but she had no intention of opening the door, no matter to whom. As she watched him drop the back of the truck and start pulling out bags of what looked like mulch, she decided to wake her brother in case the man needed to speak with them. Hurrying out to the foyer she charged up the stairs and met Beast at the top of the stairs. His ears were up and his gaze fixed on the door, but she patted his head before going toward Bobby's room.

"It's all right, boy—it's just someone Mom hired to work on the yard—good boy!"

_**Doug tried listening to his old roommate's story of hiking in Maine but couldn't keep his eyes off the interaction between Brenda and his cousin Nate. **_Vaguely aware of Matt's tale of getting rained out and his infected blisters, Doug nodded and grimaced, feeling his attention drift back to the corner of the room in which they stood. There were about forty people here tonight, but even through the crowded press he could see the tension in Brenda's posture as his cousin bent closer to hear her. She looked so small and fragile compared to Nate's over six foot height, and as she hugged herself something inside him fired with anger. Nate was an impossible flirt and had always been, even after he'd married. So, absently excusing himself from his roommate's company he headed toward their direction.

Having neglected his wife to a speedy climb up the corporate ladder, Nate was already divorced at 32 after only two years of marriage. Never having been close to the man, Doug wondered how he could choose this occasion to pour out his charm on Brenda. Of course he knew nothing of what she had suffered in New Mexico, but the fact that she'd lost her parents and sister made her definitely off limits to his flirting, at least in Doug's opinion.

"Thank you," he acknowledged a passing expression of condolences, not recognizing the person who'd offered it. As he continued to make slow progress across the room he offered a nod or a thank you as he went.

"I had them eating out of my hand!" he heard Nate boast as he lifted his arm and planted a hand on the wall just behind Brenda's head. Doug watched her shrink visibly, her escape route cut off by the press of people in that corner.

"Excuse me, Nate," he interrupted, capturing his cousin's attention immediately. Brenda half turned to look up at him, relief washing over her face. She twisted her hands together and inched toward him, away from Nate. "I need to speak with Brenda," he said not completely untruthfully, "so you'll have to excuse us."

"Sure, Doug," he replied sheepishly to Doug's scowl of disapproval as he touched Brenda's elbow and inserted himself between them.

She started off in the opposite direction as he followed her, both of them slowed considerably by the crowd. Everywhere you looked people were drinking and eating, lounging or standing. The noise was nearly deafening and he prayed it would end soon, even though they still had another hour to go. As he was detained from time to time she turned and waited for him, lingering with him and nodding to whomever he introduced her to. By the time they reached the kitchen, which was also crowded, he felt exhausted. It was raining again, prohibiting them taking refuge on the deck. So when she slid into the breakfast nook he sat down opposite her. Their eyes met over the baskets of bagels, desserts and bottles of juice. She smiled and leaned toward him with a tiny smile.

"Thank you for rescuing me," she said just loud enough for only him to hear, and he nodded, glancing toward the living room.

"You're welcome…I hope he didn't bother you," he added, turning his attention back to her.

She shrugged, looking a bit pale. "He's just rather tall…"

"And overbearing?" he finished for her.

She nodded. "A little…I'm sorry—"

"Don't be," he stated, reaching up to loosen his tie. "Someone should have warned you about him."

"You don't like him that much, do you?" she ventured to ask.

He poured her a cup of ginger ale and lifted it for a mock toast. "Not at all," he said before downing half the cup. His throat was dry and he needed to relieve Ceil of his daughter in a minute. At least that was the deal.

She sipped hers and studied him, her head tilted to one side. "Why not?"

He pursed his lips and decided to be frank. "I don't like the way he treats women."

"You mean the flirting?"

"I mean the way he ignored his wife for most of their two years of marriage," he told her, "and for flirting with other women while he ignored her."

She reddened and concentrated on holding the paper cup between both hands. "You would never do that," she said quietly, surprising him.

"No, I wouldn't," he choked as she looked up, her eyes full of moisture.

"I'm sorry," she said gently, "I didn't mean to—"

"It's all right," he insisted, shoving away the painful memory of losing Lynne. "Look I've got to go relieve Ceil of babysitting—"

"Can I come, too?"

He met her pleading gaze, glanced around at the roomful of people that were strangers to her and nodded. "Of course," he said, holding out his hand as she got up just enough to slide out from behind the table. But he kept her hand and led the way through the crowd toward the stairs. Releasing it when he saw how many people were sitting on the stairs, he led the way up to Catherine's room where women were crowded in. His daughter looked tired but wired from all the attention she was getting. Ceil looked flushed but sighed in relief when he appeared.

"Oh good, I was just going to ask you to take the baby out for some fresh air," she said meaningfully, holding his gaze with a sly grin. "She hasn't been out for her walk today, and you and Brenda look like you need a break. I sure do—so ladies?—could we please go back downstairs? Catherine needs some fresh air and time with her auntie and father, so let's go see what new snacks we can sample, shall we?"

Doug gazed at her in amazement, meeting Brenda's wide-eyed stare of admiration. The room quickly cleared, and he could see people following his aunt down toward the kitchen.

"How does she do that?" Brenda said in awe, looking up at him with a breathy laugh.

"I don't know but it's pure magic," he answered, turning to lift Catherine to his shoulder before he sat down on the bed. "You don't have to come with us if you'd rather stay in," he said, nodding toward the window streamed with drops of rain.

Brenda pulled her gaze from the rumpled bed and reached for the tiny green sweater that lay atop the bureau at her side. "I think I need some air, too, if you don't mind company," she admitted, handing it to him.

He took the sweater and held one arm with his remaining fingertips, his other hand trying to balance her on his lap. "Your company is always welcome," he answered as she knelt at his knee and helped him put the sweater on Catherine. "And trust me, Nate will not bother you outside."

"Good," she answered, looking up with a guilty expression. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to criticize your cousin—"

"I could tell he was upsetting you," he said quietly, holding her gaze as she looked up from buttoning the sweater.

"So you came to rescue me," she stated with a tiny smile.

"Of course," he sighed, lifting Catherine over his head while he planted a raspberry kiss on her tummy. She giggled with delight, grabbing his yarmulke off his head as he got up.

"I love the sound of her laugh," Brenda chuckled, getting to her feet as he snatched the kippah from her fist.

"No sweetheart, that's Daddy's hat, not a cookie," he teased, kissing her cheek.

"So who's been crashing her in the nursery, Doug?" she dared ask, folding her arms. He sobered immediately before turning toward the door.

"I have," he admitted, pausing at the threshold to look back at her. "You have a problem with that?"

She straightened and went over to him, taking Catherine's booted foot in her hand. "I was going to ask you if I could sleep in here instead of going home to an empty house."

His expression softened. "Still having a hard time at night? Like me?"

She nodded. "Probably worse than you—I drag the bureau in front of the door."

His brows lifted in surprise. "Even with the locks I told Bobby to install?"

"Even with the locks…and you can't sleep in your own bed either…"

He glanced across the hall, then met her gaze. "No, I can't…and in here I can hear her better," he admitted, setting Catherine on his shoulder. "The sound of her breathing helps me relax."

"Still not sleeping well?"

"Actually I was sound asleep when everyone arrived at 9:00 this morning."

"Nine? Why so early?"

He shrugged, obviously glad to change the subject. "It's morning minyan."

"Do the temple services start at 9 too?"

"In our temple they start at 7 so people can get to work on time."

She shook her head. "That's awfully early even if you have had a good night's sleep."

"So Bobby's staying over at a friend's tonight?"

"Yeah, he didn't want to come here, and I think it might be good for him, before school starts."

"But not for you."

She shrugged. "I'll have to learn to get used to it, I suppose."

He leaned toward her, but not as close as Nate had. "You're welcome to stay here—sleep in there with the door open," he suggested conspiratorially. "We'll be right across the hall."

She looked up at him, her expression relaxing. "You're sure it's all right?"

He nodded. "Anytime you don't want to be alone, feel free…now how about that walk?"

"Thanks—I think it even stopped raining."

_**Two days later they were sitting in the lawyer's office staring at each other in surprise. **_ She met Doug's shocked gaze of disbelief.

"Mr. Bukowski?" the attorney repeated. "I'll need your signature at the bottom of all four pages…"

Doug shifted his attention back to the lawyer. "I don't quite understand," he replied, glancing to his father, who shrugged knowingly.

"Mrs. Carter's desires are very clearly outlined," her attorney explained. "She wanted to be sure that Robert had legal guardians."

Bobby eyed him with a pained expression. "I want Brenda to be my guardian," he croaked, his hands gripping the arms of his chair.

Brenda lifted her chin and met her brother's gaze. "I think Mom knew what was best, and that we should honor her choice," she stated. "With Lynnie gone Doug is your best option, Bobby. I feel good about this, knowing how Mom felt about him."

The attorney slid the papers toward Doug. "Just sing at the bottom of each page…I will be available to offer any guidelines needed—the fees are already covered in her will."

Doug got up and faced Bobby. "I don't want to force myself into this kind of position, Bobby."

Bobby's hands relaxed a bit on the arms of his chair. "Good—and this doesn't make you my father."

"I've no intention of acting like a father, except to Catherine."

"Good, I'm glad we understand each other," Bobby said flatly, getting up to look at Abe. "Can we go now?"

"Just a moment, young man," the attorney ordered, gesturing for him to sit back down. "If you have any objections concerning this arrangement, Robert remember that it was not Mr. Bukowski who initiated the change, your mother did. She was confident in his abilities, as I remember her stating."

"She put my sister Lynne in the position—"

"Your mother did it mostly because of your brother-in-law," he replied, picking up an envelope and handing it to him. "I think you should read her letter, which was intended to help you understand her choices."

Bobby snatched it from his hands and held it up, reading it quickly before he glanced at Doug. His face reddened and he nodded, handing it back. The attorney handed it to Doug, who also began to read it. When he had finished he dropped his arm and stared at the floor until Brenda took it from his hand. She read it through and looked up, tears in her eyes.

"She wrote that she wanted you to learn to respect Doug, as she loved and respected him," she summarized, looking at Doug and then his father. She'd always hated the way Bobby and her father had teased Doug about his politics, his job and his faith. "Bobby, we both know this was totally Mom…I can almost imagine her saying it when I read it."

The attorney nodded. "Your mother liked the fact that Mr. Bukowski is only 10 years your senior, Bobby, and can serve as a proper role model and advocate in her absence."

"Well _Dad _wouldn't have thought that!" Bobby protested, his voice shaking. "He never would have wanted this—"

"Dad certainly wouldn't have wanted _me _to do it!" Brenda argued as she watched Doug go to the window to stare out into the noonday sun.

"To our knowledge your father left no will or legal documents," the attorney added. "If you wish to argue guardianship we can arrange a hearing—"

"What and put me in a foster home?" Bobby screeched, stalking to the desk to snatch up the papers and pen. He walked over to Doug, who turned to face him. "Here—sign them! I give up, Doug, you win!"

"This isn't a competition!" Doug shouted in frustration, "and you don't have to accept my opinion, only your mother's. This is what she wanted, and I think we all need to take Brenda's advice and honor her choice."

"Fine! I'll do it for Mom!" Bobby cried, shoving the papers against Doug's chest. He took them reluctantly.

"Are we going to have a problem with this, Bobby?" he demanded, glancing at the lawyer. "Because if we are we'll need to come here regularly for advice, and maybe even go through counseling—"

"No we're not going to have a _problem_!" Bobby shot back, shaking his head and losing some of his belligerence. "Just sign, ok? I just need to get used to all this, and frankly I don't want to deal with it at all!"

Doug stared at him a moment. "I'll sign the papers, but with the intention to honor your mother, and I think we all need to keep that in mind." With that he bent over the desk and signed each page.

"Good—now there is only one more matter, and that concerns your parents' estate. Robert and Brenda inherit one-quarter of the assets each, of which Robert's will be held in trust until his maturity, one-quarter inherited by Lynne Bukowski, who being deceased causes her inheritance to be transferred to her husband Douglas, and one-quarter to be inherited by their only grandchild Catherine upon her maturity. You will all receive a copy of the assets, which include of course the house and land, vehicles and all financial assets."

"Is there money for college?" Brenda asked hesitantly, wondering if she could attend this year.

"There is indeed—a separate fund has been set aside for you Brenda, for Robert and for Catherine. Now that we've received all three death certificates we are processing the transfer of the assets. The money will be deposited into a trust account, from which you may write checks for tuition and expenses related to your educations. Now, if there are no more questions we can dismiss for today. But I will be available for any questions or concerns you may have, just call the office and schedule a meeting. For now I must be going to another appointment," he said, rising to shake their hands. "Once again, please accept my sincere condolences…good day."

He left them staring at each other until Abe got to his feet. "What do you say we get some lunch? We'll meet Ceil at the mall so she can join us—we wanted to take you all out before we head off home later today."

"Thanks, Dad," Doug said quietly, nodding to the secretary who handed him a file folder. "Mr. Bukowski, after you've looked over everything he'd like to meet with you concerning the guardianship, so just call us when you're ready to schedule."

He nodded, following the others out into the hall. Brenda worried over Bobby's attitude, hoping it was just an expression of his grief and not open rebellion against Doug. If it was the latter, they were all in for a difficult time.

Abe slung his arm around Bobby's stiff shoulders. "What'll it be? Italian or Chinese?"

Bobby shrugged stiffly, and Abe removed his arm. "Doug?"

"I'm not hungry, Dad," he replied dejectedly.

"Well I'm starving," she piped up, "and if you'll agree Abe, I'd like Italian."

"Italian it is," he smiled, winking at her. She led the way into the elevator and looked up when the doors closed.

"I'm sorry Bobby," Doug breathed, rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed him. "But I hope you and I can work this all out, what do you say?"

Bobby shrugged, looking defeated. "I guess."

"Then it's settled," Abe declared, planting his hands on his hips as they swung to stop. As the doors parted, Brenda eyed Doug encouragingly as Bobby practically leapt from the elevator, followed by Abe. She took his arm as they stepped out.

"Don't worry," she whispered to him, "he'll come around."

Doug eyed Bobby's back skeptically. "I hope you're right…"

_c. 2010 by Christine Levitt_


	8. Chapter 8 The Diary

_**Chapter 8 The Diary**_

At the door Doug turned to face his father, already feeling bereft that he was about to leave. Over the past week he'd held in most of his feeling of loss and despair, unwilling and unable to share them. He knew this upset his father and that it put some distance between them. Now, forcing himself to meet his father's piercing gaze he took a deep breath and decided to admit to the matter that pressed most heavily on his heart.

"It's all my fault, Dad," he confessed, hating the hoarse emotion in his own voice.

His father's brows lifted in expectation. "What's 'all your fault'?"

"The fact that Lynne and her father are dead," he croaked, his eyes filling as he swallowed thickly. _There—I've said it! No more hiding the truth._

Abe leaned closer, eyeing him intently. "How on earth could that be _your_ fault?"

"Because I cursed them—and now they're dead."

"Cursed them? What are you talking about?"

Doug leaned back against the door, his insides quaking. "It was when Bobby and I were alone in the Airstream. I snuck a cigarette and Bobby asked me if Lynne knew that I'd started up again, so I swore, saying I didn't care if she approved or not. Then when he said that his father wouldn't be too happy about me smoking in his newly renovated trailer, I swore and cursed him too…then it came true."

He couldn't meet his father's gaze, and hung his head in remorse. "I cursed my own wife, Dad, and look where it got me."

His father gripped his arms, forcing him to look up. "Do you actually think that you have that much power? "

"I don't know, but I can't get my own words out of my head—they keep replaying over and over!"

"Only God has that kind of power, son—you should know that! He's the one who controls life and death, who survives and who doesn't."

"I don't know anything anymore," he sighed shakily, "except that if I'd been a better husband and son-in-law maybe half this family wouldn't have been destroyed."

"Is that what's been tearing you up, and what you couldn't tell anyone?"

Doug pulled away, turning his back to him. "I should have died instead of her," he choked. "_She_ should have survived, not me—especially for Catherine's sake."

"Don't talk like that—" his father ordered, gripping his arm.

"I can't help it!" he cried, whirling to face him. "It makes no sense why I survived and Lynne didn't! And her father—" he choked, "if he'd survived Brenda and Bobby wouldn't be alone!"

Abe gripped his arms again. "Listen to me—you survived because you _had_ to! You fought for your daughter, for Brenda and her brother and _that's_ why you're here. You're an excellent father, one Catherine will be proud of every day of her life. As for Brenda and Bobby, you concentrate on the fact that their mother wanted _you_ to be responsible for them—that's why you survived!"

He stared into his father's fervent gaze, feeling completely inadequate. "I can't do it," he croaked, "I'm not as strong as you are—I can't _make it_ without Lynne."

The baby monitor erupted with the sound of Catherine turning over in her sleep, amplified too loudly and interrupting them. He stared at it, realizing that he hadn't been the one to feed her dinner and bathe her, his father had. His aunt had left hours ago, and now his father had to go too. He closed his eyes and mourned the loss of his own health and wholeness, feeling weak and inadequate. He couldn't even bathe his own daughter, and could barely manage to perform a diaper change.

"I know what kind of pain you're feeling," his father soothed, squeezing his good shoulder. "But you _will_ go on, even though it doesn't seem like you can. I _know_ you can do it, Doug. Lynne wouldn't want you to give up, now would she?"

He shook his head. "No…I suppose not."

"Well you focus on that, not on what you think you can or cannot do. What matters is that you're here for Catherine and for those two kids in that empty house over in the next town. Your aunt and I will help whenever we can, but you take Brenda up on her offer to help. She wants to, and I think that Bobby would want to pitch in too. They've no idea what to do with themselves, so whatever you and Catherine need might be just the thing to give them a sense of purpose too. Why not be the cement that holds things together for them?"

He looked up, finally meeting his gaze. "I hate to ask her for help, Dad—she's got her whole life ahead of her, and so does Bobby. They don't need the burden of taking care of a baby—"

"You and the baby are their only solid ground right now, Doug! You all went through hell together, and nothing will form a bond as strong as suffering something together, trust me."

He watched his father step back and look around a minute before eyeing him. "Now as soon as I leave I want you to call Brenda and have a long talk with her—my guess is that she's probably scared to death, all alone in that house. It's a big help to her, having you to talk to. She feels safe with you, son, and she needs you to lean on. It's not just you needing her, you know."

He recalled that she'd said Bobby would be spending the night at his friend's house again, but it had slipped his mind. "I forgot—she is all alone," he stated, feeling a growing concern for her emotional state.

"Better yet tell her to drive over here, and let her stay again if she wants to."

"But it would just be the two of us, Dad…with Catherine of course."

"So? You think somebody's reputation's going to be ruined?"

"The thought crossed my mind."

Abe waved a hand. "Your neighbors could care less about you, son—at least that's my impression."

Doug had to admit he was right. Not one of his neighbors had come by to express their condolences. They had never been outgoing or friendly, and had nothing to do with them except to complain about the parking problems created by visitors coming for shiva.

"It's not that surprising, in a neighborhood like this," his father sighed. "Take my advice and call her at least—she likes you, and loves the baby. Don't shut her out, son; let her help—you'll find you'll all heal faster if you work together."

Unable to argue with his logic, Doug glanced at the clock. "It's getting late—I don't mean to keep you."

"You're more important than getting back at a certain time," he insisted. "You know, after spending a week with all of you I've noticed a few things: one is that those two kids look up to you—maybe not consistently, but enough to build toward some genuine respect. They need you in their lives, whether they realize it or like it."

"Thanks for adding to my load of responsibilities, Dad," he said dryly, smiling to soften the blow. Then he reached out and slapped his father on the back. "What would I do without you?"

"You're about to find out, but call me if the going gets too rough. I could come back on weekends to help out in case the roof falls in or Bobby has a major temper tantrum. Try to put yourself in their shoes and picture yourself an orphan, 'cos that's what they are now."

He breathed out a sigh of frustration. "I get the picture, Dad."

"So are you going to call Brenda?"

"I don't know…" he answered, unsure of how to handle the situation. Suddenly the telephone rang just as his father picked up his suitcase and headed toward the door. The answering machine took the call as he hugged his father one last time.

"Doug?" Brenda's voice sounded quietly as it was recorded, "are you there? Please Doug—if you are, can you pick up? I really need to talk to you."

He eyed his father, who nodded and opened the door. "Go on—talk to her. I'll let myself out."

He shook his hand, holding onto it for a few seconds more. "Thanks for everything, Dad. Call me when you get in."

He nodded. "And you call me if you need anything," he added, stepping outside.

"Is this a bad time? I'm sorry…" she said breathlessly, and something in the sound of her voice shook him. As the door closed behind him he walked toward the receiver and picked it up, punching a button to cut the recorder.

"Brenda?" he answered, turning to study the door, "I'm here," he breathed, listening to the silence at the other end of the line. "Brenda?"

He heard a shaky sigh of relief. "I'm so glad you're there! I thought you might have taken Catherine out for a walk."

"No, she went to bed early tonight," he answered, sitting on the arm of the couch. "What's up?"

"Oh—I ah just wanted to thank your father for taking us out to eat," she sighed, and he heard the sound of the teakettle whistle. "Is he there?"

"He just left," he said absently, watching the headlights beam across the curtains as his car turned out of the driveway. "He wanted to treat us—it's no big deal."

"Oh, well I think he's wonderful," she breathed, and in the background he thought he heard Beast's claws clicking over the tiles of her kitchen floor. At least she had the dog to protect her, he thought with a jab of guilt. _She shouldn't have to be alone, especially not at night._

"He's such a character too," she added, and he could hear the longing in her voice for her own father. But he could think of nothing to say.

"I just finished cleaning up, and Bobby called to check on me…looks like I have the night free," she said in a small voice. "Anyway, I was wondering if you or Catherine needed anything—groceries or help with the laundry…"

"Actually I was going to call you," he told her, feeling guilty for not having thought of it himself. Something in the tone of her voice told him to take his father's advice. "So Bobby's at his friend's tonight?"

"Yeah," she sighed, stirring her tea by the sound of it, "again…do you think he's having trouble being here, you know, missing Mom and Dad?"

Doug slid down onto the cushion and rested his left hand on the arm. Leaning low into the sofa, he rested his head back and stared at the ceiling. _Just like we're having._ "That's probably it, Brenda."

"But he doesn't even care that I'm here, Doug," she stated woefully. "He stays in his room pretty much all the time, coming down just to eat. Is that a typical guy kind of thing to do, you know—avoid something by ignoring it?"

Doug rubbed his aching temple. "That would be my guess," he answered, feeling guilty for doing exactly the same thing.

There was a long pause, during which he heard her sip something. "Doug, you said you were going to call me about something?"

He dropped his hand and decided to be completely honest. "Well I'm sitting here by myself too, except for the baby sleeping upstairs, so why don't you come over? I don't like thinking of you there alone at night, even though Beast is a good watchdog."

As she hesitated he frowned at the implications of his own words but reminded himself that this was Brenda he was talking to, and she was family. There was no reason to think it was anything more than that.

"Really?" she breathed, "that would be great—are you sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all," he admitted. "And I think we should talk about Bobby too…"

"I'm sorry he behaved so badly today," she sighed. "But I think he's like this from missing Dad, not because of anything against you."

"I hope you're right," he said doubtfully. "Look, why don't you get in the car and drive over here so we can continue this conversation—unless you'd rather not?"

"No I'll come—you know I hate being here by myself."

_Me too _he thought as he glanced around the empty house. "Dad will be pleased," he drawled, rubbing his temple. "He thinks we need to form a support group to make things easier on all of us."

"Good idea," she said a bit distractedly. "Look, I'll get my things together and be over in a few minutes—sure you don't need anything while I'm out?"

He got up, feeling a bit less lethargic. "Actually I've no idea what I need—just bring yourself."

She hummed knowingly. "Sounds like you need to learn the fine art of list-making, which I happen to be developing myself."

"Then you can give me a lesson," he said dryly, answering her goodbye with his own. As he hung up the receiver he decided that she sounded much better than initially. Leaning over to press the message key, he listened to the half of her message that had been recorded and decided he was right. As her tremulous voice was cut off by his picking up, he cut the recording and erased it.

For some time he stood staring down at the answering machine, wishing that Lynne had made the outgoing message—it would have given him another little piece of her to hold onto. Her voice had always amazed him, how it could be both soothing and sexy at the same time. Then, shaking himself from taking that direction of thought he glanced up at the top of the stairs, ashamed that he still could not bring himself to go back into their room for more than a few minutes.

With a sigh he headed toward the kitchen, glancing into the washroom that was tucked into the hall as he did. Suddenly he was assaulted by a vision of her standing there, fixing her hair as she looked at him in the mirror. He was transported back to that day, and closed his eyes to capture the memory.

_I caught Brenda checking you out, _she'd said with a saucy look as he remembered arguing with her about it.

_You've got to be kidding, _he'd protested. _She's no reason to, with that 'hot' new boyfriend of hers, what's his name—Nick?_

_That doesn't mean she can't check you out, _Lynne had teased him, _you know, for comparison._

_Comparison—for what? _he'd shot back, uncomfortable with even the idea of Brenda doing that.

_You're blushing! _she laughed, turning to face him with grin wider than he'd ever seen.

_Even if she was, _he'd reasoned, _I'm hardly her type! You've seen that guy, Lynne—he wears leather pants and slicks his hair back with gel!_

_And plays rock guitar and rides a motorcycle, I know! _she'd laughed, coming over to run a hand down his chest with a playful smile. _Actually, I think it's kind of cute, my little sister sizing you up. _

_I don't think it's cute at all! _he'd complained. _She's got a boyfriend for crying out loud._

_That wouldn't stop her from looking, honey, _she'd purred as she wound her arms around his neck as he'd gripped her wrists kissed her soundly on the lips.

_Frankly I can't blame her, _she'd sighed, nuzzling his neck with tiny kisses before looking up into his eyes. _You're just so incredibly sexy…_

He remembered pulling her into his arms and leaning back into the wall, taking her with him and kissing her thoroughly. When at last he'd lifted his head he'd traced her jaw line to her ear with one finger, smiling as she shivered in response.

_You're the only one I want making that observation, _he'd whispered. Then she had pressed against him and cupped his jaw with her hands.

_Can you honestly say that you haven't checked her out?_ she had challenged him.

_I can honestly say that I haven't_, he'd answered back. _She's your sister, Lynne! _

Now, flooded with shame for not having maintained that position recently, he had to admit that he had checked Brenda out, but unintentionally. There he was, minding his own business while her father planned their next course of action after the accident with the SUV. Walking away from Big Bob's and Bobby's taunts, he'd passed the back of the Airstream and seen her. She'd stripped off her top and was sunbathing in her bra, right there for anyone to see. And though he'd looked for just a moment before turning away he still felt guilty. With a ragged sigh he remembered another conversation with Lynne that night, only hours before her murder.

_I saw you looking at Brenda before, s_he'd said quietly as he held her in his arms in the SUV. He remembered being floored by the soft accusation, actually denying it to himself. At his silence she'd turned to look him in the eye, hindered by the dim light from the campfire.

_Are you still attracted to me, Doug, _she'd asked just above a whisper, _now that I've had a baby and gotten chubby?_

_You're not chubby! _he'd protested, gathering her closer and lowering his face to kiss the front closure of her nursing bra. _In fact I find you even more tempting and beautiful than before, my love…_

_But you looked at Brenda—I saw you, _she'd said in a strangled voice, pulling him back up to eye level.

_How could I have avoided it? _he'd sighed in frustration, leaning on his elbow. _There I was, walking along with my water bottle minding my own business and there she is—sunbathing! I never expected to see that, not in a million years._

_But your gaze lingered honey…_

_I'm sorry, Lynne, _he had apologized. _I was in shock before I came to my senses and looked away! Didn't you see the whole thing? _

_I did, unfortunately…_

Exasperated, he'd pulled himself to a sitting position. _And why should that threaten you anyway? _he'd wanted to know. _You know how much I love you!_

Shaking himself out of the past he pinched the area between his eyes and continued toward the kitchen for his pain meds. Drawing off a glass of water, he took a pill and leaned back against the counter to finish the drink, wondering why he'd let his father talk him into asking Brenda over. Torn, he wished he'd never remembered that conversation at all. He and Lynne had talked it through, and she had accepted his apology, however unintentional the incident had been on his part. Yet he still couldn't help feeling remorse for that one look, even now…especially now.

He drained the glass and placed it on the counter, his mind in turmoil. Walking toward the patio, he stared out into the darkness, then turned to slam his good hand against the wall. Aching with grief for his wife, he felt despair wash over him again, leaving him desperate to find even a shred of meaning as to why she had been taken from him, and from Catherine.

Turning away from the slider, he walked toward the stairs and climbed them two at a time, padding silently to the crib to gaze down at his daughter. As he stood there the peace in her expression made him feel even more agitated, finally driving him from the room. He crossed the hall and entered the master bedroom, standing in silence as he stared at the empty, unused bed he could not bring himself to go near.

Then he went to the closet and flung open the door, digging behind the clothes for the built in bookcase until he found the scrapbook. He gripped against his good side and pushed back the things that had fallen in order to close the door. Kicking at the bag he'd been given at the army base, he watched it fall to one side and spill out half the contents. With a sigh of irritation he bent and flung it aside, freezing when he saw the envelope poking from one corner. Staring at it in shock he realized what it was, and remembered how he'd been handed it. Pulling it out, he held it up to the light from the hall, studying the typed label showing his name. Rising, he tucked it against the scrapbook and headed for the stairs, going into the family room and setting it upon the coffee table. With a sense of foreboding he finally opened it and slid out the copy made for him. Swallowing thickly, he ignored the Confidential/Top Secret title page and turned to the first inside page.

_Ruby's Diary – Personal! _

Wincing in pain, he turned to the illustrated page following it and whispered: _Begun on February 14, 2009 – A Story of My Life_

He heard a car door shut outside and looked up, realizing that Brenda would be coming to the door. Sliding it back into the envelope he stuffed it beneath the cushion and got up. Rushing to the door before she rang the bell and woke up Catherine, he opened it and waited while she gathered her things up from the hood and turned, smiling and lifting a hand in greeting. As she came up the walk he felt the tiniest spark of hope that someday they might all recover somehow. He wanted that for Catherine's future, even more than he wanted it for himself.

"Hi," she breathed, passing him to enter and leaving behind the faint fragrance that was uniquely hers. He closed the door and turned to face her.

"Hi," he answered, forcing a smile as he slid the bolt in place. "You made it."

She nodded, her expression sobering as she dropped her bag on the chair. She glanced at the baby monitor before looking back at him. "You okay?" she asked shyly. "You look a little…shaken. I hope I'm not bothering you."

He stared at her a moment, then took a step toward her. "I'm battling another headache, that's all."

"Is that from the concussion, still?"

"Afraid so," he breathed, heading toward the kitchen. "I was just about to make some coffee—want some?"

A puzzled smile lit her face as she followed him into the kitchen. "Coffee—at this hour? No wonder you don't sleep."

"It never keeps me up, and I need it for my head," he sighed, looking over one shoulder as he ran the water. "It really hasn't anything to do with whether or not I can sleep. How about you—you sleeping any better?"

She came to his side and reached for the canister of ground coffee. "No, not really, so maybe I'll join you for a cup. We can stay up all night talking, two caffeine heads just like we planned."

He glanced down at her with a smirk as he set the brewer. "No girlie sleepover talk, I'm warning you."

"I promise," she stated, raising her hand and crossing her fingers as a pledge. "I wouldn't include _you_ if I wanted that kind of conversation."

"Good," he nodded, reaching for two mugs. "I'm thankful."

"For starters, why don't you explain why you won't take the sleeping pills your doctor prescribed?"

He set the mugs down, leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. "Because I don't aspire to become a drug addict," he drawled, "it might deter from my role model status, being Bobby's guardian and all."

"Oh yes, Bobby's guardianship," she mused. "Well I'm no one to judge—I only took mine the first night home."

"Neither can I afford being comatose with a baby who still wakes up during the night," he added.

She shifted her gaze to his hand, which he stopped flexing once he realized he was doing it. "By the way, how's the physical therapy coming? Do you need a ride tomorrow?"

"I can take a cab," he stated, shaking his head. "But if you could watch Catherine, that'd be great. If you can't they have a play center for kids to use while their parents are in therapy."

"It only takes an hour, your father told me—why don't I drive you and we can all go?"

He pulled away from the cabinet and opened the refrigerator door for the cream. "I really hate tying you down, Brenda—"

"You're not tying me down!" she groaned, taking the cream from him to pour in her own. "It's not like I have parties and concerts to go to."

He glanced sideways at her. "But you have friends."

She shrugged. "I'd rather spend time with you guys," she answered, lifting her mug to take a sip.

"I'm flattered, but don't you miss them? You were gone all summer."

She eyed him soberly. "My friends don't understand, Doug."

He held her gaze a moment. "No, I don't suppose they would...well, you've got to admire them for their blissful ignorance, don't you?"

She laughed, her face lighting up. "That's why I'd rather be with you guys," she answered, "you _understand_."

He walked over to the breakfast nook and sat down, looking up at her as she came to join him. "I really don't understand, you know," he said carefully. "You could enlighten me on what you're going through, despite the fact that I'm a poor substitute."

She slid onto the bench and lifted her mug again. Lowering it, she shot him a warning look. "Don't underestimate yourself or Catherine—you have no idea how much it helps, being here with you."

He raised his brows with a smirk. "Glad to be of assistance, young lady!"

She laughed and pointed a finger at him. "You look like Groucho Marx when you do that."

He frowned. "Groucho Marx? I'm insulted."

She covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. "It's kind of cute, actually."

"Cute?" he scowled. "That term is reserved for two year olds, my dear."

"Stop it Groucho!" she said, slapping his arm playfully.

He grinned and took another swallow, already feeling the pill begin to rip away his headache. "At least I got you to laugh," he said blandly, "a major triumph in itself."

"Hey, watch it," she warned, lifting her cup for another sip. "Wow, this is good but strong—we'll be up all night."

"I hope not," he sighed, leaning back to study her. They settled into companionable silence. After a moment he drained the cup and set it on the table. "But seriously, even though I may not be one of your friends or peers I am a good listener, or so I've been told."

"I know," she said softly, "Lynnie told me you were."

He nodded, a flash of pain stabbing him in the chest. "You can tell me anything, Brenda—I hope you know that. I'm here for you, and for Bobby."

She studied him a moment. "I know," she said softly, resting her mug down and splaying her hands on the table. Then she looked up. "I just hate being afraid all the time," she began, looking up at him with a sad smile. "I never used to be afraid of anything."

"I remember," he answered, waiting for her to continue.

"It puts me in a bad place, with Bobby withdrawing into himself all the time."

"He's just trying to work through his own grief," he stated. "Like we are."

"But that leaves me completely alone," she said in a small voice. "Then I have to depend on you, and you've already got too much to deal with. I hate being a burden—"

"Hey, no one's a bigger burden than me," he argued, lifting his injured hand. "Look at this—I can't even drive or shower without a bag on my hand, which is challenging in itself. Worse, I can't even diaper my own kid properly."

"Then let me help," she said, leaning forward. "Can't you see a solution here? You need help with Catherine and I can't take being alone right now."

"That'll change when you go back to school," he reassured her. "Don't worry—you'll get your life back, Brenda."

She eyed him sternly. "And so will you."

"By the way, when do you move into the dorms?"

"I'm not living in the dorms this year."

He stared at her in surprise. "You're not? But I thought you didn't want to be alone—"

She reddened and looked down at her hands. "There are too many guys there, Doug…I wouldn't feel safe."

He studied her while the baby monitor sounded Catherine's thump against the side of her crib. "Actually, that makes sense, but you'll still have the problem with being alone in the house."

She looked up. "Then you have to step in and tell Bobby no overnights, once school starts."

"Me?"

"You're his guardian, so that's your job Doug."

He ran a hand over his bearded jaw, shaking his head. "I don't think this is going to be easy. You saw the way he reacted to the idea in the lawyer's office."

"I'll back you up, and he knows he's got to buckle down on his studies this year. He'll be applying to colleges in the spring."

Doug stared at her a moment. "College—Bobby? Is he really that old?"

Brenda laughed, shaking her head. "Come on Doug—you've got to get up to speed. If it's any consolation, Dad would be on his case day and night anyway, and I'll remind him of that. I doubt he'll give you a hard time, even if it's only for the sake of Dad's memory."

"Whoa," he breathed, resting his head back and closing his eyes. "I hadn't thought of all that..."

"Well before you go stressing out about it, remember you've got six months to get ready for the college apps process."

He opened his eyes, realization dawning on him. "Catherine will be a year old then…"

She leaned toward him, her expression sympathetic. "Don't worry so much…you're a great father, and you'll be a great guardian," she finished with a tiny smile.

"I feel old," he groaned. "Too feeble to manage…"

"Yes, you're ancient."

He lifted his hand and tried to make a fist, still a difficult task. "I've got a lot of work to do, beginning with driving again."

"One thing at a time, Doug," she teased, eyeing him suspiciously. "By the way, what were you doing before I got here?"

He looked up. "Punching the wall, getting out a scrapbook and taking a pain pill."

Her brows shot up. "No holes to repair?" she asked, glancing around.

"Unfortunately, no," he sighed, "though it would have felt good to make one. But then I'd just have to deal with fixing it."

"Was it one of Lynnie's scrapbooks?" she asked excitedly. "I can't even organize all the photos on my laptop."

"It's her newest creating," he said soberly, sliding out to get up. "It's in the family room," he explained as he padded off to get it.

When he returned she had bent up one knee and hugged it with her hands. At his return she turned form staring out the window and eyed the item under his arm. He sat down with a sigh and then flipped it open, but when she moved to get up he slid over, letting her sit next to him so that they could look at it together.

By the time they had finished he felt drained, and Brenda was obviously affected as well. She got up first, twisting her hands together. "Do you mind if I sleep in the guest room?" she asked. "I'm starting to feel groggy."

He looked up and nodded. "I'll be in with Catherine, if you need me."

She forced a smile. "Thanks Doug…and thanks for letting me come over."

He lifted his hand as she turned to leave, his eyes drawn back to the cover of Lynne's book. She had painted the front with fabric paint, beautifully designed and entitled "Baby's First Year." As he stared at the cursive letters his eyes flooded, causing him to shove it aside and get up.

He heard Brenda moving in the guest room over the kitchen as he shut off the lights and left a nightlight on. It was an old habit of Lynne's one which he decided to keep. Running a hand through his hair, he went into the family room, retrieved the diary and took it with him as he checked the bolt and lock and climbed the stairs.

In Catherine's room he stood studying her and listening to her breathe softly, remembering the times they'd taken those photos of her.

"My poor baby girl," he whispered, reaching down to gently grace his finger across her soft cheek. She stirred a little and turned over, and he took it as a signal to try to get some rest too. Crossing over to the door, he closed it and changed into his sweats and shirt, then climbed into the daybed Lynne had insisted they needed for the nursery. Only he kept it open, the pillow bolsters piled up in the corner.

Settling on his back, he threw his arm over his eyes and took a deep breath. Eventually he set aside his emotions and willed himself to sleep. The pain pill left him feeling drowsy, despite the coffee. And for another rare night he fell toward welcome sleep.

_c. 2010 by Christine Levitt_


	9. Chapter 9 Therapy

_**Chapter 9 Therapy**_

_**Bobby turned his key in the lock and shoved inside, **_dropping his gym bag on the floor as he greeted Beast. The dog barked excitedly and danced around him as he greeted him and shouted for Brenda.

"I'm home!" he called, hating the echo his voice always seemed to make in the house. "Brenda, where are you?"

Beast growled and barked, eyeing the door with his tail wagging. Turning to pick up the leash he clipped it to the collar and turned to open the storm door. Beast bolted out, dragging him behind as he rushed toward the hedges and quickly relieved himself. Glancing at the neighbor's houses, he saw the guy across the street using his leaf blower, not looking up. To his left the Jones kid glared at him a moment before turning away to rake, while on the other side old Mr. Cummings shuffled toward the mailbox.

Tugging on Beast's leash he urged him back up the stairs and inside, where he ran off toward the kitchen with an excited bark. _Neighbors! _he complained to himself, looking up the stairs.

"Brenda—did you feed Beast?" he yelled, surprised by the fact that she still hadn't showed. Usually she was just as eager to come greet him as Beast was, but he shrugged and decided she must be in the bathroom or something. Probably painting her toenails, though Dad always had a fit because the fumes from the polish got into the house.

"Good boy!" he encouraged Beast as he went into the kitchen to the lapping up of water in his bowl. The dog licked his chops and sat down, eyeing him expectantly. "More water?"

He ran the faucet a minute and glanced at the table, seeing a note propped up against the napkin holder. Reaching over to grab it, he frowned as he scanned the brief message.

"'Gone to Doug's to help with the baby,'" he read aloud in a high female voice to imitate her, "'see you tomorrow for dinner.' Humph—gone to Doug's. _Again!_"

Beast barked and he squinted at the postscript. "Feed Beast breakfast, will you?" it read. He glanced at the dog and picked up his bowl to replenish the water. "She didn't leave you breakfast? What kind of an owner is she, huh? You must be starving, old boy!" he empathized as he set the bowl back down and shuffled toward the garage door. Opening it, he stared at the empty space where Mom's car should have been.

"Why don't you go see Nick instead?" he complained under his breath, unzipping the dog food bag and scooping up a portion. "Doug's got to learn to manage on his own now."

Carrying it over to the bowl, he poured it in and tossed the scoop into the recycling side of the sink. Watching Beast gobble up his food, he washed his hands and tugged open the refrigerator door. Bending down to look inside, his stomach growled loudly. Snatching up a bag of onion bagels and the cream cheese, he carried them to the counter and prepared himself a lonely breakfast, glancing down at Beast.

"She spends too much time with Doug," he told Beast, who finished swallowing and flattened himself down onto the kitchen floor. "We've got to do something about that, boy, don't we? Besides, Nick's a great guy and we want him around again. Once her classes start up he'll be coming over again, you watch and see."

He popped the toaster early, liking his bagels warm but not toasted. Spreading it with cream cheese, he took out a glass and went back to the frig for the milk. When he had all he needed he sat down to eat, hating the empty silence of the house.

"Can't say that I blame her for leaving," he told Beast, gazing around at the clean kitchen. "This place is damn creepy with just the two of us," he stated, eyeing the dog as he sat up to stare at him. "Sorry, the three of us."

He picked up the bagel and thought of going to get the newspaper, but remembered their subscription must have expired. Malcolm never delivered it anymore, so that's what must have happened. Tearing off another piece of bagel he yearned for the noisy dinners they used to share, even missing his parents' bickering. Anything was better than silence. He couldn't wait to go back to school, as ridiculous as that desire was. Even school was better than this…

_I've got to invite some people over, _he mused, his face lighting up. "Maybe a beginning of year party—that should shake old Doug up and get him over here."

The fact was he resented Doug being his guardian, but it was more the idea than the person. He'd always liked Doug, even though he was technically a nerd with his degree in engineering and his one online class in grad school. He couldn't imagine why anyone in their right mind would pursue anything beyond a basic college degree, especially since Doug had his own store. What's the use going to school when you have a good job? It made no sense, he rationalized as he got up and put his dirty plate in the sink. With a stab of guilt he thought of little Catherine, then his missing sister who used to punch him with just the right amount of force and affection. All Brenda did was tease, but Lynne was different. He choked back a sob of grief and shoved his oldest sister from his mind, keeping her there.

The phone rang and he ran to the answering machine, cringing at his father's voice. The readout said it was Brenda's cell, so he picked it up.

"When are you coming home?" he demanded, not giving her a chance to greet him. "Beast was ready to burst and starving—"

"Didn't you see my note? I was helping Doug out which is why I'm calling—I'm driving them to his physical therapy and then we're going to the mall for school shopping. I can pick you up on the way to the mall—"

"Good—I really need some jeans and a new pair of sneakers."

"I'll be there probably after 2, ok?"

"Yeah, fine—whatever."

"Can you do me a favor and take out the trash? The pickup is tomorrow morning but I'll forget if I wait til tonight. You going to be home tonight?"

"Yeah, Ed's mom said she thinks it's a good idea I stay home with you for a change."

"Smart woman—I thought of asking Doug and Catherine for dinner—"

"Why do you always have to be with them, Brenda? He's not exactly helpless, you know!"

"Bobby how can you be so—never mind! Look we'll discuss this later okay? You could be a little more considerate, you know."

"Yeah, yeah—yada yada yada."

"I'll see you later!"

_**Brenda signed off and glanced toward the stairway. **_Bouncing Catherine on her shoulder, she tucked her phone away just as she heard the shower shut off. The pipes in the house banged whenever the water was cut off, but she was thankful that it warned her to get the baby ready. Going over to the stairs, she yelled up to Doug.

"You managing all right?" she called up to him just as she heard the door open.

"Yeah, fine!" he called down as Catherine yelled too.

"Dat-da!" she screeched, making her laugh and kiss her soft cheek. "Yes, Daddy's getting ready, and so do we—let's get you out of your pajamas before he's finished!"

She started up the stairs and gained the landing just as the door to the master bedroom closed. Quickly shooting into the nursery, she dug through the top drawer for an outfit for the baby and gasped when the door opened again. Turning to look over her shoulder, she froze at the sight of Doug's bare chest and wet hair. Her eyes dropped to the white towel around his waist just before he turned and fled back into the room.

"Sorry!" he called back, "I didn't realize you'd come up."

"I just need an outfit for the baby—we'll be out of the way in a second," she called, hurrying to snatch up everything that was needed and trying to forget the sight of his muscular chest. He'd gained back some of the weight he'd lost from his surgery, though the scar along his side still looked red. As did the one running down his shoulder toward his heart.

"I'll be out in a minute," he called, startling her as she rushed out into the hall to head for the guest room.

"We'll be in the guest room," she told him, hurrying down the hall in that direction. There was no reply, but she heard a thump and his deep voice exclaim a muffled expletive. She wanted to ask if he needed help but thought better of it.

By the time she'd dressed Catherine and was in the kitchen replenishing the diaper bag he came down to join them. As she packed baby food and a bottle to go she sensed him coming close and turned, freezing as he laid a hand on Catherine's head. He was so close he startled her, but he didn't seem to notice as he took the baby and set her in the crook of his good arm.

"Thanks for dressing her," he said, moving away to pour himself a cup of coffee. "And for making a pot of coffee."

Her heart was pounding as she told herself it was Doug, no one else and there was no need to go crazy. Telling herself to lighten up she turned just as he looked at her over Catherine's head. Their eyes locked and she was startled by how handsome he looked. At the same time she realized how inappropriate it was for her to even notice, but he was wearing a navy blue shirt which made his eyes seem even more dark blue than before. He glanced away as if embarrassed too and finished running a clean handkerchief over his glasses before putting them back on. The short sleeves of his shirt ended at the exact spot where the muscles in his upper arms bulged out, and she swallowed at his obvious strength. Looking up, she noticed that his newly dried hair looked thick and glossy, the blonde highlights from the sun adding to its appeal. The cut she'd given him suited him, a testament to her barber training. She was distracted when Catherine grabbed his collar just as his expression molded into a puzzled look.

"What's wrong?" he croaked, curling his hand around the baby's tiny fist. "Do I have a cowlick or something?"

She looked away, feeling herself start to blush. "No—if you're ready we should get going."

"I can feed Catherine in the car—"

"I already fed her," she said brightly, picking up her keys from his table. "I heard her on the monitor and took her before she woke you up."

His face blanched. "You came in?" he asked a bit hoarsely. "I would have gotten up—"

"You were sleeping so well, and it was no problem," she waved dismissively, trying to ignore his shocked expression. "Really Doug—I woke up even before she did."

"But I don't always sleep with—ah, never mind," he said as he switched off the coffee. "You don't have to do everything, Brenda."

She turned to look at him, feeling embarrassed. "But that's why I came over—to help." _That's not entirely true, _a voice echoed through her mind.

He pursed his lips. "Brenda, I know this is awkward but I think you should let me do more—you know, let me handle Catherine. I really appreciate your help and your being here, but I've got to find a way to manage."

"How are you going to do that?" she challenged, feeling irritated with his embarrassed expression. "You have to let someone help you and it might as well be me, unless you want to hire someone."

His brows shot up. "You don't have to get angry, I just think—"

"Fine then! I know when I'm not needed—"

"It's just that I don't want you coming into my bedroom," he said quietly, halting her in mid sentence.

She stared at him, then edged closer to look up at him. "That's not your bedroom."

He swallowed. "It is for now."

Her eyes were drawn to the maddening gap in his collar, where a few tiny black hairs peeked out from between the half unbuttoned section. "Oh—but we're family," she said, dragging her eyes away from the strange appeal of his masculinity.

He looked into her eyes for a moment before turning away. "We should go—it's getting late," he said quietly, turning the bolt and opening the door. He stood aside, cradling Catherine to his chest before he looked back at her.

"Right," she said, feeling it again. There was a pull of attraction between them, and she hadn't been the only one feeling it. He averted his gaze, coloring a bit.

"After you," he said, sweeping his arm out for her to precede them.

She huffed and marched past him, clutching the bag before punching the lock on her keys. The car lights flashed and she heard the locks open. She hurried to open the door and got in while he locked up the house and came toward the car. Turning the key in the ignition, she shut her door and watched him covertly as he passed by and opened the back. Climbing halfway in, he put the baby in her car seat and closed the door. She pouted until he came to the passenger door and opened it. When he got in and leaned closer to buckle his seat belt she caught a whiff of the pleasant scent of his skin and had a flash of a vision of him in the shower.

Mentally shaking herself, she put the car in gear and backed out. Pulling the car onto the main road, she drove in the direction of the medical center, listening to Catherine talk in her own language. It covered the gulf that had opened between them, and after some time she felt Doug's gaze on her profile.

"Brenda, don't be angry," he sighed, leaning his head back. "I'm truly grateful for all your help."

She lifted her chin, keeping her eyes on the ramp to the highway. "I'm not angry."

"Then why does your lower lip do that little pinched thing it does when you're mad?"

She glanced at him in utter astonishment. "What? I said I wasn't mad!"

He smiled lazily and shook his head. "You're really mad, but I think I apologized already."

"Apologized for what?"

He sighed and turned his head away. "Never mind."

She fumed a bit and decided to confront the problem head on. "How could you even insinuate that I would come into your bedroom? I can't help it if you're sleeping in the nursery!"

"Neither can I," he shot back, not turning toward her.

"Look I only wanted to get Katie up so I could have her company and feed her, not to mention giving you a break so you could sleep in a little."

"I know—I appreciate that but I had to get up anyway…you called her Katie."

She turned to look at his profile, noting the tension in his own pursed lips. "I did?"

"Lynne called her that," he said quietly. She glanced down at his injured hand, noting the bump from his wedding band beneath the wound dressing as well as the way he was flexing his fingers.

"Doug—I'm sorry…it just slipped out," she sighed. "And I always thought 'Catherine' was so formal sounding for such a cutie."

He looked over at her then, expelling a tense breath and nodding slightly. "I know. I'm sorry, it just—"

She waited for him to finish but he looked away again. He rested his hand on his thigh and she could think of nothing more to say. They were coming to the hospital block and she concentrated on trying to find a parking spot. Driving over the bump and into the darkness of the parking garage, she put on the headlights and searched for a space.

"Here we are," he breathed, turning to look at Catherine. "I'll get some cash at the ATM inside," he sighed rather than stated.

They parked finally and he got out first. She popped the trunk open for him to pull out the stroller, and then climbed out herself to get the baby. They worked with practiced efficiency until they entered the elevator and he pushed the button for the orthopedic floor. The car climbed two flights and stopped, and the doors parted to reveal three men and a woman. They piled into the car despite the lack of room, and Doug turned the stroller sideways to help accommodate them. Brenda felt a choking sensation as they moved back toward her and the doors shut. Closing her eyes, she tried to slow her breathing down and clutched the diaper bag in front of her for protection.

"You okay?" Doug said just above a whisper as his arm gently nudged her side. Her eyes shot open and she turned to look up at him, finding his expression full of compassion. He was very close, and she gazed into his eyes, feeling the panic rise within her.

"Anyone for the fifth floor?" the woman asked, turning to stare at them. "Which floor?" she prompted when neither of them answered.

"Seventh," he said, nodding but not looking away.

She pressed closer, surprised when he took her hand and squeezed it gently. She locked both hands around his and held on tight, counting to herself. The car stopped and to her amazement the others got out on the sixth floor, leaving them alone. She took a deep breath as the doors finally closed and they were alone again.

"You can let go now," he said gently, and she looked up. One corner of his mouth turned up very slightly before she released her death grip on his hand.

"Oh, sorry," she choked, glancing down at Catherine who was batting at her stroller animals.

"No problem," he stated gently, moving away as the bell chimed the next floor. "Here we are."

_**Doug winced in pain until the 30 seconds were up, **_then exhaled a shaky sigh as the therapist told him time's up. He uncurled his fingers from the ball and slumped back, his good hand rubbing his wrist to ease the dull ache shooting up his arm.

"You're doing fine, Mr. Bukowski," she said in a silky tone, eyeing him despite his cool reception. "Better than last time. We're going to move you up to one minute, and I want you to start using this at home, four times a day alright?"

"One minute?" he groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. "I can barely do half!"

"You're progressing faster than expected, but the cost is more discomfort," she chuckled with a throaty laugh. "You'll do it though, won't you? I know how badly you want to get back your independence."

"Yeah, I guess I do," he sighed, uncomfortable with the way she was sliding her hand up his arm. Tensing beneath her touch, he looked up and met her gaze. Her finely plucked brows lifted suggestively, but when he said nothing she shrugged and let go, turning to record something on her clipboard.

"I want you to start driving this weekend," she stated in a more professional tone. "Go easy at first," she warned, looking up at him from her writing. "Only for 15 minutes at a time—say around town to the grocery store and back should do it."

"How do you know about the grocery store?" he wanted to know, wondering if he was picking up some paranoia from being around Brenda. Still, there was something about this woman's mannerisms that bothered him, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"You live on the west side so that's suburbia," she said throatily, her eyes dropping to his abdomen before travelling back up. "There's a Safeway close to your house, isn't there?"

_She's checked out my address, _he realized, not bothering to answer her question. She coolly laid her pencil down and got up, making smoothing motions with her hands down the front of her scrubs.

"Well you've only got two sessions left, unless your surgeon extends the therapy," she announced, watching him get up. "But you're doing so well I doubt he will—it's been a real pleasure Doug."

He stared at her extended hand but didn't shake it. "Thank you," he said stiffly, turning to leave. He looked up and met Brenda's questioning look across the room. She was standing just outside the door, her hands on Catherine's stroller handle as her gaze moved from him to the therapist.

"See you next week," Karen called in a sweet sing-songy voice.

He smiled at Brenda and looked down at his daughter's sleepy face. Brenda turned the stroller as he came to her side and followed down the corridor toward the elevator bank.

"How'd it go?" she asked, glancing up at him.

He forced himself to release the grip he had on his left wrist as they turned the corner. "Fine—only two sessions left, thank God."

Her eyes shot to his wrist and back up. "They really push hard, don't they?"

"Yeah, that's the idea," he sighed. "The baby must have had fun—she's ready for a nap from the looks of her."

"Oh we climbed all over the mats and played with the balls," she smiled, glancing back over one shoulder. "In case you haven't noticed, your therapist is following you," she whispered.

He stiffened. "Oh no."

Brenda stifled a laugh. "I think she has the hots for you," she whispered.

"What?" he shot back in a whisper, not daring to turn his head to look. "That's ridiculous—she's probably going to lunch."

"And you're it," she teased, nudging him with her elbow. "Face it—you're an attractive guy. You must get it all the time."

"No I don't," he protested, thankful when they came to the elevators. "Not with Lynne on my arm."

She sobered and punched the garage button, glancing back to see the woman coming closer. "Don't look but she's right behind you."

The doors opened and he stepped close, taking the stroller handle from her. She put out her arm to hold the doors while he maneuvered the stroller inside. Stepping closer to him, she watched the woman step in and move to Doug's other side, glancing over at him with a saucy smile.

"Well hi again," she announced, glancing over at Brenda dismissively, then at the stroller. "Who's this little sweetie?" she begged, bending down to look at Catherine.

"My daughter," he said thickly, glancing at Brenda's open eyed stare. Karen straightened and pressed against the wall of the elevator, too close to him for comfort.

"And this is?" she hinted, leaning in front of him to study Brenda.

"This is Brenda," he introduced. "Brenda, this is Karen, my therapist."

She leaned across him, extending her hand. Brenda lifted hers and shook, glancing up at him in surprise. "Nice to meet you—are you the sister-in-law?"

"I am," she announced proudly, curling a hand around his upper arm. "But Doug and I are best friends. I think it's wonderful, the progress he's making with your help of course."

"Yes," she hissed coolly, studying his profile, "he's doing remarkably well. Our next session will center upon the use of utensils and computer keys."

"Ah, I see," Brenda said sweetly, squeezing his arm. "I can help him at home, too."

Doug eyed her meaningfully before gazing up at the lighted panel of floors with longing.

"Well—here's my stop," Karen sighed, lifting a hand to fluff her hair up. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, and your little one Doug. I'll see you on Friday."

He nodded curtly, his eyes on the doors as they parted. He glanced sideways at Brenda, who by now had released his arm and was staring blatantly at Karen's exaggerated walk. She looked up at him as the doors closed.

"I was right," she marveled, a smile playing about her lips. "She's definitely interested in you."

He glanced dismissively down at her. "You're imagining it—she's just a good therapist."

"I'll bet she is," she mused, obviously enjoying his discomfort. "The funny part is that huge engagement ring on her finger…"

The doors opened and he pushed the stroller out, taking a deep breath of cold air. "Just get us out of here," he groaned, "the sooner the better."

_**Brenda glanced over at him, noting his shaking hand with concern. **_She'd heard that physical and occupational therapy were tough and often caused a lot of pain, but Doug seemed unusually shaken. She thought of that sleazy woman making a move on him with inexplicable anger, pitying whoever her fiancé was and wondering if he knew how she flirted with her patients. Or at least with Doug.

"Are you all right?" she finally asked after his prolonged silence.

"Fine," he answered, glancing back at Catherine's sleeping form before he shot out a breath of frustration. "Got any aspirin?"

"In the glove box," she answered, motioning toward it. "Why? You still getting headaches?"

"Not as much—but my hand's killing me."

"She worked you too hard."

"That's her job."

"I think something else is bothering you."

He leaned back stiffly, his injured hand tucked against his side. "I really need a cigarette."

She turned to gape at him in surprise. "You haven't smoked in weeks!"

"Well I need one now—badly."

"You'll get over it, Doug."

"Get over what?" he said after a moment, his gaze on her profile.

"The pain, the nicotine attack, whatever…it took me a year and a half to not salivate at the smell of someone lighting up," she confessed.

"You _smoked_?" he gasped in surprise. "I had no idea."

"My freshman year of college," she confessed, glancing at him and back to the highway. "Lynne made me quit."

He was silent a moment, but she watched him cautiously stretch his hand out along the top of his thigh. "Yeah, she hated smoking…I'll have to keep that in mind whenever I get the urge."

She glanced over at him with a smile. "She's still here Doug," she said softly, wanting to study his reaction but needing to pay attention to her driving. "I've heard her, a few times."

Silence again, then he cleared his throat. "I've heard her too," he said quietly, meeting her gaze when she glanced over. "She's laughing softly…it actually comforts me, to know she's happy."

"Oh Doug," she answered, reaching over to touch his wrist. "I'm so sorry…"

"Yeah," he sighed raggedly, not shaking off her hand. "Me too."

_c. 2010 by Christine Levitt_


	10. Chapter 10 Ruby's Story

_**Chapter 10 Ruby's Story **_

_**Bobby climbed into the car, surprised that Brenda was alone.**_ "Well—where are they?" he sighed, pulling his earphones out as he turned to face her.

"Catherine fell asleep on the way back," she replied, putting the car in gear and backing up, "and Doug's hand was bothering him so I dropped them home."

"Oh," he mouthed, reaching for the radio on button so they wouldn't have to talk. He heard a tape kick in and scowled at the sound of the booming voice and its message. "What is _that_?"

"One of Mom's tapes," she answered, glancing over at him and noting his look of disgust. Returning her attention to the road as he hit the eject button, she shook her head as the radio search feature scanned the static-filled channels. "Actually the guy's pretty good, once you get used to his style."

He stretched his legs out, feeling cramped in his mother's small sedan. "Don't tell me you actually _listen_ to that stuff?"

"I've checked out a few of Mom's tapes," she shrugged.

He stared at her profile. "Don't' pull that one on me—you've always hated Mom's religion."

"I used to," she admitted as they merged onto the state road. "But things are different now."

His favorite station finally registered and he turned it up. "What do you mean?" he demanded over the sound.

"Mom may have had something, Bobby," she said, throwing him a look, "you know, believing in God? I've been looking through her library and listened to some of her tapes. I think I see why she wanted that in our lives."

He squinted at her suspiciously. "Don't go get all holy on me, will you? And didn't you have enough of religion at the funeral, when her so-called friends said she's in a better place now and at peace. Like being dead was something to look forward to!"

She winced at the memory. "I know," she stated, touching the brake as someone cut too close in front of them. "That was definitely no comfort, not for those of us left behind."

"Then why listen to that stuff?" he challenged. "I thought you liked _Jewish _stuff now that you're into Doug so much."

She shot him a warning look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know," he drawled, "spending all your time over there with him."

"Yeah because _you_ left me home alone almost every night since we got back!"

"Well I can't take being there any more than you can," he admitted, "so I guess I'm sorry."

"You know, it wouldn't be so bad if _we _stuck together now and then," she cried, "instead of you hiding out in your room all day too!"

"I've always stayed in my room so what's your problem—besides, I'm not your babysitter."

"No, but you _are _my brother!"

He fumed and she cut off the argument. They drove in silence for a few blocks, she then shook her head.

"Look, I'm sorry for getting mad, ok?" she said more gently. "We're having a hard time being home 'cos we miss them, and Lynne too. I've missed Mom so much I read her Bible just to feel close to her."

"Fine, go ahead," he sighed, not knowing what to think. "I get it—but don't go all stern and judgmental on me, ok?"

"I won't, I promise," she stated, looking over at him. "Not all religion is like that—look at Abe and Ceil, and the people who came to support Doug—they were great."

"So what if they were? We're not Jewish or half as religious as them."

"Lynnie wasn't Jewish but she went to services with Doug once in a while."

"You know what I mean."

"No," she breathed, "not really…"

"She just went along with it, remember?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Well I think it was more because she liked his Dad and aunt."

"I think there's more to it than that, Bobby."

"Ok then—tell me why you're interested other than the fact that it's Doug's religion."

"I am," she said in a frustrated tone, glancing over at him. "What's your problem with him anyway? He's been like a brother to us and he was a great husband to Lynnie. Don't you remember the type of guys she used to go for, before she met him?"

Bobby turned away in disgust, staring out the window. "Oh yeah—he's a real keeper, your _sister's_ husband!"

"What? Why do you have to be like that, huh?" she yelled, shifting too quickly into the mall lane as he gripped the handle of the door. "What happened to the two of you being such good buddies?" she raged on. "You begged him to come with us on vacation even though he didn't think it was a good idea with a new baby—"

"Slow down!" he ordered as she sped up the entrance lane, "I'd like to arrive in one piece if you don't mind!"

"You even fought with Dad and convinced him to persuade Doug to come!"

"That's because he's not boring," he shot back, reconsidering. "At least he wasn't then."

"Now he's boring?" she cried, throwing up her hand. "I can't believe the way you're acting Bobby!"

"You know what I mean!" he shouted back. "He's not the same guy anymore—he used to be fun but he's _changed_."

"Well you know something, I've changed too!" she shot back, slowing down to let a group of teens cross in front of them. She glared at him accusingly. "Everything's changed in case you haven't noticed, and you're going to have to deal with it."

"I've noticed all right, and I want it to go back to the way it was before!"

She started up again, turning into one of the parking lanes as he scowled in silence. "Yeah…so do I."

He glanced at her, feeling guilty at her softened tone. "Look Bren, I'm sorry for deserting you and I know Doug's the best. But all of a sudden he's the adult, and he's on the other side."

She pulled into a space, switched into park and looked at him suspiciously. "Is that bad, considering we have no one else?"

"It depends how he handles it," he admitted sullenly.

"He doesn't like the position he's in either, and I doubt he knows how to deal with it, so give him some slack, will you?"

"Look I know he misses Lynne, probably more than we do— I just don't think he wants our help, not that I know how to help him or Catherine. It seems to me like he wants to be left alone."

"I'm sure he does, but don't you see how bad that would be for him, and for Catherine?"

He considered this for a moment. "I guess…if he has a breakdown or something we'd be in trouble."

"Exactly," she sighed, pulling out the key. "So we've got to look out for each other—especially Doug. My friend Tina from the base said he'd have it worst—losing a spouse is the top stressor next to losing a child, even more intense than us losing our sister and parents, if you can imagine it."

He met her gaze and nodded. "Well we're not doing too well, so I guess that's what's going on with him. Sorry I got mad and said things about the two of you."

"I'm sorry too," she sighed. "You know I think he would welcome your company even more than mine but whatever he wants we've got to make sure he doesn't lose it, and stick together to try to help him. On top of losing Lynnie he's got all his injuries to deal with too, besides taking care of the baby."

"All right—look I'll come over with you the next time you go."

"Or instead of me," she hinted, gazing off into the distance. "You know I think I make him miss Lynnie more sometimes."

"But why? You're great with the baby, and at taking his mind off things."

She looked back at him, studying his expression in a way that made him nervous. "But I think I remind him of her," she worried.

"What? You're the exact opposite of Lynn," he disagreed, "that's crazy."

"But I look like her—I've caught him staring at me a few times, and then he gets all choked up again."

He studied her face, realizing how much she resembled Lynne. "You're probably right…so you think I'd be less of a reminder, right?"

She reached over and squeezed his arm. "Right…but anyway we need to come up with a plan to help with Katie, especially now that he's going back to work."

"When?"

"He told me he plans to do a half day, tomorrow after his therapy," she said, reaching over to open the door. He followed suit and climbed out, meeting her gaze over the roof of the car. It was hot out, and he wanted to get into the mall for the air conditioning.

"Is he taking Katie?"

"No—I already volunteered to watch her at our place. I can do most of it till classes start on the 9th but after that we'll have to split the time. Who knows, Doug might really benefit from having another guy to talk to."

"Okay," he agreed, going around to the back of the car to meet her. "I'll be getting out just before 2—you can pick me up, let me practice driving home and go from there."

"You doing any after school activities?"

"Not this year," he answered, falling into step with her as they headed for the entrance. "I don't want to get too stressed, with repeat SATs and college applications."

"Good—I'll finalize my classes ahead of time so we can figure something out, then we'll present a schedule to him and see what he thinks," she confirmed, pushing open the doors and entering the mall.

"Sounds like a plan," he sighed, breathing in the air conditioning. "Maybe he can help me prep for my SATs too—Lynne told me he scored in the top tenth of his class."

She punched his arm playfully. "You're a good sport, little brother—let's meet in an hour at the food court, ok?"

"Little?" he chocked, plowing into her side and almost knocking her off balance. "Don't say that, especially in public! I'm going to Newbury first!" he called, heading for the stairs.

"Then the real shopping begins," she called up to him, "school clothes!"

_**Lifting the edge of the bed, Doug pulled out the diary and stared at it with a surge of apprehension. **_He'd kept it hidden beneath the mattress of the daybed for two days, not wanting Brenda to find it. He straightened and crossed the room to stand over Catherine, watching her nap peacefully for a moment. From time to time he was struck by the miracle that he'd found her and brought her back, and now was no exception. Ruby's diary in hand, he took a moment to thank God for her part in the rescue. With a deep sigh he turned and left, carrying it into the kitchen and placing it on the table in the breakfast nook. Sitting down carefully, he rested both arms on the table, framed it with his hands as he stared at it, heart pounding. It was time to face the truth of whatever she'd written, despite the weight of guilt he felt for his part in destroying her people. He remembered Captain Rohrer assuring him that what he'd done was purely self-defense, nothing more. Now he knew that reading this diary would only make his guilt worse, for she'd been the innocent party in the whole mess.

Looking up, he gazed out the window at the beautiful late summer day, the leaves just beginning to tinge with color. He felt like a monster, horrified by what he'd done—what he'd become. Albeit he'd acted partly in self-defense he couldn't deny the thrill of vengeance that had coursed through his battered and bruised body, giving him strength he should not have had. After coming home he'd repented and asked for forgiveness for the lives he'd taken, but still the memories of the death blows he'd delivered and the smell and feel of blood on his hands haunted him. All this only added to the horror of what he'd experienced, losing Lynne and the Carters and failing to prevent what they'd done to Brenda.

Closing his eyes, he pinched the spot between his brows and leaned back, sliding down against the back of the bench. He thought of burning the diary in an effort to forget the past and put it behind him, yet knew the impossibility of that task. The past had become his present and future, whether he liked it or not, the echoing silence and emptiness of his house proving that fact. It robbed him of sensing Lynne's presence in every room, which with each day slipped farther from his grasp. He was left with the difficulty of remembering the sound of her voice, the smile that lit up her face and the stir of her touch.

With a shudder he straightened and gazed down at the photocopy before him, changing is opinion of it yet again. What if within its pages he could find some shred of meaning for Lynne's death? Wouldn't that make it worth reading, despite the dread that filled him at the thought of doing so. He shifted his gaze to his left hand and stared at the mesh-covered stubs of his fingers, repelled by the sight of them and tormented by the burning ache that never seemed to abate. What was the reason for his disability? He was scarred inside and out, all because of Ruby's people. Then he remembered that Ruby had helped him, thus betraying her own family and community.

Her eyes still haunted him, filled with remorse and compassion as she held his daughter out for him to reclaim. And another time when they were wide and horrified as Lizard pointed the shotgun at his back, unbeknownst to him or Catherine. He remembered her hoarse cry of protest as she bolted from before him and lunged at that monster of a man. Turning, he'd seen her push him but lose her balance as well, both of them falling over the cliff to the rocks below. He cried out even now, mourning her loss as well. So gazing down at the account of her life that she'd left for him, he flipped the pages to her first entry and started to read.

"Rest in peace," he bid her softly, noting the date recorded at the top—the year before Catherine's birthday to the month. He scanned the lines of introduction she'd written, wondering what made her different from the others and why she'd betrayed them to help him. , With thoughts flashing in different directions he also wondered why her village had been chosen for nuclear testing and why its people had refused to leave. How had they managed to survive, only to suffer the genetic defects which had arisen from the resultant contamination?

Returning to the entry on Valentine's Day, he sympathized with her difficulty in dealing with all that holiday represented. Concentrating on what he sensed lay beneath the typical adolescent ramblings against the vanity of superficial beauty, he caught a glimpse of a young girl's dream to matter to someone and have her life make a difference. He realized that she had elevated her dreams to a higher sphere of influence as she cried out against the injustice of her situation. It seemed that she had helped him and Catherine out of compassion and a sense of justice, even if it meant turning against her own people. He studied her neatly executed cursive as he read through the next few months, wondering about the days left blank that were followed by long treatises concerning the meaning of life. The latter he read carefully though he felt like an intruder. More than once he flipped back to the front page where her note "To the Baby's Father" had been photocopied, just to reassure himself that she'd given him permission to do so.

He went back to his place and continued forward from the end of a year of homeschooling, devouring her descriptions of joyful abandon just have the summer off. She had explored the ravines and canyons and even ventured to the crater of abandoned vehicles he himself had discovered, and for the first time he could imagine her exploring what others had left behind in almost the same manner he'd undertaken. Her naiveté amazed him, for never once did she seem to consider the fate of the owners of those vehicles. Did she imagine them unburdening themselves of the trappings of life to go off on a quest for something better? As he wondered about this he turned the page and stopped, staring at the date of her next entry and focusing upon the title:

_**August 4 – A Baby Girl Arrives**_

"This is it," he whispered, swallowing hard and glancing up at the time. Looking around, he noted the steady buzz of the baby monitor and confirmed that he was indeed home, not hiding in some house in her village waiting to be attacked. Then, taking a deep breath he bent his head and continued, hungry for the truth.

_They've ambushed a family! _she wrote, her penmanship slanting downward and taking on a scrawled appearance._ I heard them talking about it earlier, hinting of plans I didn't really understand or suspect at the time. They thought I was asleep too, even though it was only 9:30. I'd been told I was training to guard our property and safety, as if I were still a child and didn't need to know the truth! Now I wonder what other things they've done as they sit there in the kitchen bragging about how well their planning was executed and what they have in store tomorrow! Now I think I know where all the cars really came from, the ones in the big crater—from other people they've ambushed! But what happened to them and the children who were in those cars?_

_I feel so scared and angry, betrayed and helpless! Yet when I really think about it, if I had known what they were going to do I couldn't have stopped them…_

"Dear God…" he sighed, taking it in his hands as he leaned back and continued.

_But I'm getting ahead of myself…even though I'm scared for the baby I have to write to you, Diary and try to sort out the horrible things that have happened! I must go back to the beginning, just before I saw her at the gas station. Maybe if I concentrate on her I can clear my mind and calm myself down enough to try to save her. I will remember how cute she looked held close in her daddy's arms as he sat down in the shade with her while they bought gas for their car.._

His breath caught—she'd been watching them!

_Uncle Goggle sent me to the store for water bottles, like I've done many times before. I have to admit it was a nice break from the boring watch duty they said I needed to train for. He said we'd be out after sunset and that it would get cold, which is why I stole the red sweatshirt from their car while no one was looking …_

His insides clenched at the thought of her uncle watching them with binoculars and her stealing right out from under their noses. Who else had been with them, watching?

_Goggle said later that it was okay to steal from the rich people on vacation—we had nothing because of what the government did to us, stealing our village, bombing our lands and making us all sick. Besides, no harm was meant, he'd said. Because of the past he said we had to keep watch in order to protect ourselves. Little did I know then how he was lying to me!_

Entranced, he felt his stomach growl but disregarded it—he was captured by her account.

_There were seven of them in all, counting the baby. They were on vacation and heading to California. The grandparents looked ancient and they bickered a lot—I don't think they liked each other anymore, but the younger couple was different. When I first saw the baby's mother I held my breath: she looked like a princess, tall and beautiful as she handed her baby to her husband. Her smile was bright and her skin so flawless. I held my breath as she kissed the baby's cheek and smiled at her husband, her face glowing. In that moment I felt I was witnessing true love..._

Doug choked back a sob of grief but forced himself to go on.

_After studying her husband (she called him Doug I decided that he was handsome, confirmed by the glimpse I caught of his eyes from behind his glasses. He had a really nice smile and broad shoulders. His hair was blonde and kind of long, but the best thing about him was how he held his daughter and kissed her cheek as if she was the most precious thing in the universe. I watched her fall asleep in his arms, her head resting on his chest, safe and protected. When they were all finished he put the baby inside the big car and climbed into the trailer they were towing. But just before he went inside he kissed his wife so many times it seemed that they just couldn't kiss enough, they were that much in love. _

Her words made him miss Lynne all over again, though he felt a bit violated by the fact that Ruby had been watching them so intently. But he continued reading, devouring every detail. Her account explained how her uncle killed Beauty, and that Bobby had found her and run away only to fall and knock himself out. Ruby had sat over him to protect him from her uncle's taunts that he was going to cut him up and eat him, just like the dog. She explained how she'd become a vegetarian out of her love for animals, raging against her uncle's senseless killing of such a beautiful dog. But she'd been too scared to protest and worried doing so might risk the boy's safety. When another girl came looking for him Ruby described their flight back into the hills to hide, yet not far enough away to neglect their watch.

She went on to write about her daring undercover mission later that night , following the men as they went out into the darkness again. She had thought they were going after the other dog, and intended to somehow find him and unleash him so they couldn't hurt him. Little did she know what they were really about to do…

_I followed them without using my flashlight, though it was scary and dangerous considering the rough terrain. Now I wish that I hadn't, for I witnessed the horrible things they must have intended to do all along. I never would have guessed my relatives and their friends capable of such brutal and cruel acts, and when I hid and watched what they were doing I couldn't stop praying they would change their minds. But I was a nobody who didn't deserve to have a prayer answered. I prayed anyway, hoping that a dust storm or lightning would strike, even a flash flood, just to interrupt them. I prayed to God to forgive us, and that was when I decided to save the baby from whatever they might plan. She was small enough for me to snatch up and hide, if I could only get the chance._

Doug choked back a sob, wiping his eyes as he read on.

_They did horrible things that will reserve them a place in Hell, tricking the family and starting to kill them off one by one. I watched in tears as Doug tried to save the grandfather but couldn't. While he was trying to put out the fire I saw Lizard and Pluto sneak into the trailer— then I heard screams and shots. Doug and the boy named Bobby stopped what they were doing and charged back toward the trailer, but Lizard dragged out the younger sister with him, pointing a gun to her head. Thankfully he was out of bullets and let go of her to run away while the boy shot at him to scare them off. Pluto had stolen the baby, and my heart pounded with fear as I heard her cries. I ran after them, only able to imagine how scared the baby's cries sounded. _

Doug shuddered and glanced over at the monitor, hearing nothing. He whispered a prayer himself, thankful that he and Catherine had somehow been spared.

_I followed them back to the village, looking through the window until Big Mama fed the baby and put her down, going to bed herself. I snuck back into my room but couldn't sleep I was so horrified and upset. Later, hearing voices, I took the glass and put it to the wall and eavesdropped on them. That was when I heard them bragging about what they'd done. Before long she heard Lizard say they needed to get some sleep before the big day tomorrow, when they finished them all off. _

_So at dawn I decided to sneak out again, but not before looking in on the baby. She was sleeping in Big Mama's room, and I knew for now that she would be safe. Heading toward the ridge I decided I had to warn the rest of the family and cut through the mine, taking out my little flashlight. While I was in there I heard someone enter—it scared me so much I had to cover my mouth not to make a sound. Then to my amazement I saw that it was Doug, using his dog to track the way. So I slipped out the other exit and hid, waiting for him to go through. The sun had risen by now, and when he came out he raised his hand to shield his eyes from the light. Just as he did the light caught something which hung around his neck; it glinted, and I stared at it in disbelief._

_It shone like a little star, and I squinted to see it better. His shirt was unbuttoned enough to reveal it, and when I recognized the six-pointed star I was filled with hope! As his arm lowered and he stared off toward the village a jolt of energy hit me—I knew I had been given a mission from God Himself. Never before had anyone else worn that kind of star—it was just like my real father's star, the one I kept in my treasure box with the old photograph of him._

Doug lifted his gaze from the manuscript, heart pounding as he felt hope rise within his own soul. Amazed at her reaction to seeing the star of David that had been his grandfather's he marveled at the connection it had provided them. Now it lay upstairs on Catherine's bureau, for he'd not worn it since coming home. But he had to keep reading…

_As I watched him start toward the village I felt a sense of peace that made no sense, for I knew he was going into a trap and if they saw him he wouldn't survive. Yet in my heart I knew he would be protected because of the star he wore and what it stood for. And I knew that if I helped him get his daughter back I would be protected too. So I prayed for wisdom and followed at a distance, seeing myself as a kind of guardian angel sent to help him get back his baby. It was a good sign that his timing was perfect— he was going to arrive before they were up and dressed. I began to see him as the shepherd boy David who fought Goliath with a slingshot. He was carrying a baseball bat for a weapon, but his face was set to rescue his daughter no matter what. It was wrong of them to take her—I felt this very strongly. She belonged to Doug, and that was all I needed to know…_

He heard Catherine stirring, and knew that soon she would be up. Grasping the copy of her diary, he read eagerly.

_I'm writing this now as the baby and I hide in the little cave that faces the sun along the spur trail. Lizard is coming to kill her, but her father is coming for her. I knew that he must have fought hard to defeat all the others, and now he must fight Lizard. Hiding until it's over is the safest thing for us, for Lizard is yelling my name. Whatever happens, I've vowed to protect the baby and give her back to her father, with God's help…may God have mercy on us all…_

He stared at the last page, grieving the loss of the brave young girl who'd given him back his daughter. Feeling drained, he laid it upon the table and leaned back against the seat, overwhelmed. Catherine started to coo softly, but he found he could not get up. Suddenly he felt a sense of peace, aware of a presence in the room though he saw nothing but the sun streaming rays of light from behind a dark cloud. Words filled his mind as he closed his eyes.

_He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty…  
I will say of the Lord, "my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust …*_

"Thank you," he whispered as he felt warmth spreading through him. All anxiety left him, and he felt energized. When Catherine started calling for him he got to his feet and climbed the stairs to greet her. Leaning over to pick her up, he held her close and nuzzled the top of her head beneath his chin. She leaned back and patted his cheek with a soft dat-da. He smiled and kissed her forehead.

"You are my miracle girl, you know that?" he breathed, turning to take her downstairs. "But you already know that, don't you sweetheart?"

* Psalm 91

_c. 2010 by Christine Levitt_


	11. Chapter 11 The Phone Call

_**Chapter 11 The Phone Call **_

_**Startled by the ringing of the phone, Doug continued to scan his ledgers, **_intent on finding what was wrong with the books. A barely discernible pattern of overpayment had emerged, which he'd just begun to trace before the phone rang. Not wanting to break his concentration, he traced up the columns of payables again, reaching blindly for the receiver with his right hand. Glancing up to brush away the stacks of invoices and receipts, he uncovered the receiver and held his index finger over line 1 as a vaguely familiar voice called his name.

"Mr. Bukowski? Doug Bukowski? My name is Hank Lawson—I don't know if you remember me…"

His insides twisted at the memory of fighting to stay conscious in the medical van as the man hovered over him and probed his side.

"I hope I've reached the right number—I'm the medic who treated you back in New Mexico? I need to speak with you about an important matter, that is, if I've got the right number..."

He glanced toward the empty lobby of the store, then grabbed up the receiver.

"Mr. Lawson? This is Doug Bukowski...and I do remember you."

"And I recognize your voice! Look, I've been trying to get in touch with you for some time now."

Doug stared out the window at the traffic jamming the streets, the ledgers forgotten. "Is something wrong?"

"Let's just say that I really need to speak with you in private. In fact I'd like to fly out to meet with you and your family…would that be possible?"

Doug held his breath, wondering if he was being sent by the colonel to check up on them. "What's this about?" he said defensively, though he'd done nothing against orders.

"I've been doing some undercover work, along with the local sheriff's department here. We've decided to pursue our own investigation to make sure nothing like what happened to you ever happens again."

Doug swallowed, relaxing his grip on the receiver, aware of the answering machine taping their conversation. "The sheriff's department? You've gone outside Army jurisdiction?"

"I have."

"And they know about it?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact they do."

Doug breathed out a sigh of relief. "They why can't we discuss this over the phone?"

"Because of the sensitive nature of your case; I'm sure you realize the need for confidentiality. I think it would be best if we met in a neutral place as well, where no one would be able to overhear us."

He reached up to pinch the tension point between his brows. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're acting like a character in a conspiracy theory story."

"I am indeed," Hank agreed. "Whenever you're dealing with the military, you run that risk."

"Then you can appreciate my reluctance in getting involved," he stated. "There are only so many times you can beat your head against that wall."

"Sometimes it's worth it, Mr. Bukowski—"

"Please, call me Doug."

"All right Doug—but whether you get involved or not, we're going ahead with this. We intend to make the government take responsibility for what they've essentially ignored all these years."

Doug gazed out at the buildings across the street and sighed with reluctance. "Well, you've got me there…but if I do get involved, I have to make sure whatever is done won't have a negative effect upon what's left of my family."

" I understand that," Hank agreed. "The deputy sheriff would be coming with me, and he's already made that a priority, for you and the other victims' families."

Doug straightened. "You've found the other families?"

"We've got a list of names, that's all. But it's a start."

"Are you going to get in touch with them?"

"We will certainly make that our priority, yes."

"But what about Colonel Greene? I distinctly remember him threatening us—"

"He's gone, Doug—took early retirement and moved to Hawaii two weeks ago," Hank stated. "We've established a working relationship with Captain Rohrer—I believe you know him?"

"Of course—he led the sortie back to the village," Doug stated, somewhat relieved that Rohrer was involved. He'd seemed like a decent sort, as military officers went.

"The captain has the approval of the new colonel, and with a little pressure from the sheriff's department we've convinced him to cooperate."

"Yeah, well I'll believe that when I see it," he answered. "They've covered things up this long I wonder how cooperative we can expect them to be."

"The sheriff is set on making them cooperate, Doug. You've blown a hole wide open in their world, one too big to patch up at this point, and they know it."

Doug still hesitated, shooting a quick plea heavenward for confirmation. He also wanted to be able to discuss this with Brenda and Bobby, and grasped for ideas on how to stall the man. But to his surprise he felt at peace with the news, now that the shock was wearing off. He marveled at this tenuous connection he seemed to have discovered, as if someone was watching over him now, someone who was keenly aware of every detail and desperately wanted to be involved. As he considered this he heard Hank repeat his name.

"Doug—are you still there? Can you hear me?"

_This is of me…_ he also heard another voice, the one that had come to him before like a whisper that filled his mind yet seemed to surround him on every side.

_I will be with you..._

"Doug—look I 'm sorry for throwing this all at you—"

"I'm here," he choked, glancing back out into the empty storefront. "I'm in—let's do it. We can meet as soon as you can get here."

"You won't regret it," Hank breathed. "I've already looked at flights for Sunday— I'll call you back when I've made a reservation."

"Fine. Look Hank, I've got to ask you one thing—what made you want to get involved? Doesn't this pose a risk for you, being in the Army?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I retired last week myself, right on schedule. But even if I hadn't I've seen too many things that keep me up at night not to get involved…I've gotta go, but I'll be in touch."

_**Brenda watched as Bobby stretched over the car seat to kiss Catherine's cheek before he slid into place next to her in the front. **_Clipping his seatbelt he glanced up, meeting her questioning gaze.

"What?" he shot back defensively as she put the car in gear.

"Nothing," she sang, a smile curling her lips as Catherine squealed with delight at his presence.

"At least she's glad to see me," he mumbled, turning his head to make a silly face at the baby. Brenda looked into the rear view mirror and smiled as Catherine gurgled with pleasure.

"Why, I'll never know," she teased before glancing back. Pulling to traffic, she bemoaned the fact that now that school was back in session the streets were filled with cars, most of them driven by student drivers like him.

"Pleeeeease let me drive?" he moaned as they crawled through the slow-moving mess. She shook her head and he threw his hands up. "Duh, I thought that was why you picked me up!"

"First we get Doug and take him and the baby home," she instructed, hoping her brother would not guess that Doug had asked her not to let Bobby drive when Catherine was in the car. If Bobby knew that he'd be even more resentful of Doug, and she couldn't let that happen.

"I'm a good driver and you know it!" he protested.

She made a face and he reddened, for they both remembered his first attempt. Dad had immediately hired a driving instructor, at least for Bobby's first few weeks. Deciding to change the subject, she glanced at his overloaded backpack. "Got any homework?"

"Not yet, thank God!" he sighed, sliding lower in his seat as he peered out the window. "I sure hope none of my friends saw you pick me up."

"Relax—you'll be out burning rubber soon enough. If you haven't any homework, what's with the stuffed bag?"

"My gym gear," he sighed. "Turns out today wasn't gym, so I'll have to drag it back in tomorrow. Anyway, why are we getting Doug this early? I thought he was working in the store tonight."

"So did I," she mused, giving the car some gas as they line started to speed up to 25 mph. "He texted me around lunchtime to ask if I could pick him up after getting you. He said he's bringing work home for some reason."

"Probably missed Catherine," Bobby sighed, glancing back at her. "Yes—you're that gorgeous, little one! Anyway it's too early for him to go back, with his hand still pretty much out of commission."

"I don't know," she wondered, braking as someone decided to double-park in front of them. "He needs to get out of that house if you ask me—I hate driving downtown at this time of day."

"Then let me," he offered hopefully, "I can handle the traffic."

She turned the wheel hard and finally got out from behind the SUV. They drove another ten blocks before she saw the side street they needed coming up. "See if I can cut back in, will you?"

He directed her until they waited at the light and turned onto the street. Maneuvering around the crowded narrow street, she finally pulled into the parking lot behind the store. It was a short enough drive if you could time it right. Getting out of the car, she checked her bag while Bobby opened the back door and pulled Catherine from her car seat.

"We don't need the diaper bag," she assured him, shutting her door and locking the car.

"Why not?" he whined, kissing the baby's cheek with a slurpy sound that made her laugh heartily and grab his ear." Ow! Gentle little buddy, gentle!"

"If we look like we're settling in it'll take forever to leave," she smiled craftily as they rounded the corner.

"Good idea," he drawled as walked toward the door and saw the "Closed" sign already hanging up. The make believe clock below the words "Be Back At" showed hands pointing to 9 am.

Brenda tried the door, surprised that it wasn't locked. "That's strange," she said, eyeing her brother. "Anybody could come for something."

"Maybe he wanted to leave it open for us," he guessed as they entered the quiet store. The lights were out, even in Doug's office, which was tucked into a corner over at the right side of the storeroom. Beyond the half opened door she could see him sitting at his desk, staring blankly across the room. The glass door closed behind them, ringing the tiny bell which hung above it but he didn't move or flinch. He just sat there with a vacant expression on his face.

"Doug?" she said gently, pushing the door open and half expecting to see a burglar seated across from him with a gun pointed at him—that's how traumatized he looked.

"Hey man," Bobby said casually, "your ride's here— so is your little girl."

At the mention of Catherine he turned his head and stared at them, snapping out of what had obviously been some sort of trance. His eyes moved from the baby to Bobby, then to her. "Sorry," he said distractedly, getting up. "I just hung up the phone and didn't see you come in."

"But we—"

"Ready to go?" Brenda interrupted her brother , moving closer to inspect the mess covering his desk. "Looks like someone's been busy."

"I have," he stated, beginning to gather the papers and shoving them into his open briefcase. "I'll be ready in a minute."

"Catherine hasn't had a nap yet, but I have to take Bobby out practice driving," she told him, taking the baby from Bobby as she covertly studied him. Behind his glasses she saw moisture in his eyes, as if being back to work had triggered his grief again. She knew all about the Christmas Eve that Lynne had rushed into the store to see if her phone could be fixed, and had met Doug. Amazingly, that had only been a few years ago, yet it seemed like a lifetime. And with Lynne gone now, it truly was a lifetime.

"You gonna need help with those ledgers?" Bobby offered, handing him a clipped stack of invoices.

"As a matter of fact, I could use your help," he answered, glancing up. "You could put your honor's accounting skills to work and maybe find what I'm missing."

Bobby nodded. "Sometimes you just need to put things aside and come back to them later…what's wrong?"

Doug sighed, running a hand through his hair to push it back. "I'm not quite sure, but something seems to be off and I can't find the origin …"

"We'll do it after my driving lesion, ok?"

"Deal."

"What was that about a phone call?" Brenda wanted to know.

He glanced up at her as he continued to pile papers into his briefcase. "The medic from the base called— Hank Lawson."

She frowned as Bobby sat on the edge of the desk. "I remember that guy—he was really intense, but he seemed to know what he was doing."

"He certainly took good care of us," Brenda remembered, thankful for the man's gentle handling of her in her traumatized state.

Doug straightened, planting his hands on his hips. "He's flying out here on Sunday to talk about the case."

"What?" she gasped with alarm, eyeing her brother. "What about it?"

"Yeah, and why now?" he added.

"He's been working with the local sheriff's department and needs our help. They're going to expose everything, despite the cover up."

"But we were told to say nothing!" Bobby fumed. "He's gonna get us all in trouble!"

"I don't think so," Doug said carefully, reaching to close his briefcase. "His brother is deputy sheriff and has been pressuring the Army to go public—seems they've gotten them to cooperate to a certain extent."

"But what about the Colonel?" Brenda hissed, glancing around to be sure no one could be listening and knowing she was being paranoid. "He threatened us—"

"The man's gone," Doug stated, coming around his desk with the briefcase and bending to kiss Catherine's cheek as she reached for him. "No sweetheart—let Brenda carry you to your car seat, Daddy's got a full briefcase to carry."

"Gone where?" she wanted to know.

He met her gaze as Bobby preceded them toward the door. "Retired and moved to Hawaii," he added, turning to punch in the security system locks. "I don't think he'll be threatening us again. By the way Captain Rohrer is getting involved," he stated, turning to face them. "So I agreed to work with them."

"But why would a medic be the one calling you," Brenda asked, feeling confused.

"Yeah, and how did he find your number?" Bobby worried. "It's unlisted."

"He found me through the store," he shrugged. "Said he's been trying to get in touch with me for a while."

She shuddered, eyeing Bobby. "That's a little creepy."

"Yeah, like Big Brother is watching," he agreed.

"Apparently he's retired himself," Doug continued. "But because of his contact with the sheriff's department he's gotten involved. They've been gathering evidence from the other victims," he told said as they walked out the door.

"So that's why you looked catatonic when we came in," Bobby mused. "I see why."

"I'm still in shock," Doug admitted, locking the door behind them before he turned to face them. "Shall we?"

Brenda led the way around the corner to the parking lot as Bobby took up the rear, falling behind to gaze into one of the storefronts.

Doug glanced back at him as they walked. "I hope he's not driving," he asked hopefully as she punched the unlock key, making the lights flash.

"Not until after we drop you and Catherine off," she sang out as they parted, watching him open the rear door for the baby. "If we make it back in one piece, you can help us celebrate."

"Hey—I heard that!" Bobby called out as he came up running.

Doug took the baby from her and leaned in to put her in her car seat. "Sorry Bobby," he called out as he fastened her safety belt. "I'm thinking of the baby."

"I know, I know," he teased, climbing into the front seat opposite Brenda. She fastened her belt as Doug sat next to the baby and met his gaze in the rear view mirror.

"We'll get take out and be back by 6, how's that?"

"Only if you let me pay," he insisted, glancing at Bobby. "Then I'll need your help with the books, Bobby."

"Sounds like a plan," he said coolly, sliding low into his seat. "You can pay me back by helping me prep for my SATs."

"When are they?"

"November," he sighed, turning to look over one shoulder at him. "How about once a week?"

"That's fine," Doug agreed, leaning back and stretching one arm behind Catherine's seat. "But I warn you, I'm rusty."

Bobby snorted. "Yeah, right."

"No, really, I am."

"You've got one of those minds like a steel trap," Bobby snickered, eyeing Brenda. "That's what Mom used to say."

Brenda pulled out onto the main street, remembering her mother with longing. "She did, didn't she?"

"Your mother was unfailing generous," Doug said gently, his gaze drifting out the window.

She glanced from the rear view mirror back to the road. "You really comforted her, Doug, those last few minutes. She didn't have Dad to do it, so it was good you were there for her."

He said nothing, and Bobby's brow furrowed. "Mom was a saint," he sighed.

After that, it was some time before anyone spoke again on the drive back.

_**Doug gently rocked the baby carriage with his foot**_ as he studied the medic's profile. He listened to Hank's description of how things had developed in New Mexico after they'd left, strangely at peace now that the burden of keeping their horrible secret was finally being lifted. It felt right, letting the world know what had really happened and seeking some kind of justice, not only for their sake but for the other families who had been touched by the same tragedy and lost loved ones. He knew it would reopen old wounds, but he owed it to Lynne to tell the story of her bravery, and his in-laws as well.

"My brother suspected something when he learned about the haul of beat up cars that had been taken out of the area," Hank was saying. Tearing his gaze from waves breaking against the shore, he eyed Doug doubtfully. "You never saw any evidence of a junkyard where you were, did you?"

"As a matter of fact I did," he answered, surprising Hank enough to make him sit up straight, hands on his thighs as he stared back at him.

"But you never said anything about it in your report," he stated, shaking his head.

"I did—but it was obviously omitted from my report."

"Where did you see it?"

"I found about 20 abandoned vehicles in the largest crater, right at the end of the dead end access road. They looked like they'd been dragged in there in a rush, they were scattered around in a crazy kind of circle. The Army must've cleared them away to remove the evidence."

Hank's eyes narrowed on him. "That's exactly what my brother thought—he's been pouring over every one of them ever since he found the lot where they were taken. So far he's traced the registrations of 12 and was able to match them against the missing persons reports of the owners. The trail covers ten different states."

Doug shook his head, shifting his attention back to Catherine. She slept on in her carriage, no doubt an effect of all the fresh air they'd inhaled. He leaned back again, meeting Brenda's gaze as she leaned forward on the bench, her elbows balanced on her knees. Bobby on the other hand continued to stare ahead at the lake, but Doug could tell he was listening intently.

"Unbelievable," he breathed, shaking his head. "And no one ever went out to investigate?"

"The Army wouldn't allow them access," Hank answered. "Thank God for Captain Rohrer," he sighed.

"He seemed like one of the good ones to me," Doug agreed.

"It's only a matter of time before the whole story is found, and when it's out we'll know all there is to know about the nuclear testing, the villagers and all their victims."

"How many victims?" Brenda wanted to know.

Hank turned his head toward her. "By last count the number was 53."

Doug felt a stab of grief, realizing that Lynne was number 52, her mother being the last victim.

"What made the Army change their minds?" Bobby finally asked.

Hank shrugged. "My guess is that they started to realize it was getting too big."

"And this time some of the victims survived," Brenda said softly.

Hank eyed Doug with a look of respect. "Well at least you did some damage to the other side."

He stiffened and glanced away. "I'm not proud of what I did."

"Why not?" Bobby shot back, shifting to the edge of the bench as he eyed him cynically. "You should be thrilled to have given them some of what they dished out, and you're crazy if you aren't!"

"Bobby!" Brenda yelled as he surged to his feet and stalked off toward the water.

"Let him go," Doug answered, flinching at Brenda's answering glare but holding it nevertheless.

_They don't understand…_

"He has no right to treat you like that," she argued, but he could tell that she felt the same way.

The faces of his victims flashed through his mind, smothering him and crushing him with guilt far too often. "He's never killed anyone," he said quietly.

Hank cleared his throat. "Look, I don't mean to stir up bad memories, and I apologize that this is gonna cause all your grief to resurface."

Feeling Brenda's gaze bore into him, he eyed Hank. "I agreed to meet with you."

"You do realize that when this all comes out you'll need to testify," he warned. "You prepared for that?"

"I'll do whatever it takes," he answered, looking off toward Bobby's stiff legged stand. "I appreciate you taking the time to come here."

"I'm sorry I couldn't bring my brother, but you'll meet him eventually," he said soberly, turning to Brenda. "Are you in agreement with all this, miss?"

She nodded. "I am."

"And your brother?"

She looked up, staring at Doug meaningfully. "He'll be glad to."

"Good, we'll be in touch," Hank answered, slapping his knees and getting up. "Well these bones of mine can't sit much longer. If we're done here I'll be on my way."

"Wait," Doug said, rising to face him as he clutched the handle of the stroller. "What about the other families?"

He shrugged. "What about them?"

"Will they be called to testify as well?"

"I can't answer that right now, but it's a possibility," he stated, studying Doug's face. "What are you thinking?"

"I'd like to speak to them," he said, surprising them both. He glanced toward the place where Bobby stood, kicking at the sand with his hands in his pockets. "Can you get me their names and numbers?"

"I'd have to ask the sheriff's department…what's on your mind?"

"A memorial."

Brenda gasped in surprise as he whistled. "Now that's a great idea."

"We'll start with an online group," Doug brainstormed, the plan quickly setting itself up in his mind. "A private one, of course."

"We can post photographs of those we lost," Brenda said, looking up at him with a hopeful. "It's a wonderful idea…"

He nodded, gesturing toward Bobby. "Can you tell him we're leaving?"

She nodded and walked off, leaving him to study her covertly as she went to her brother.

"How's she doing?" Hank wanted to know, meeting his gaze.

"About as well as can be expected."

Hank nodded. "Looks to me like that boy is stuffing most of his feelings inside."

"I think you're right," Doug sighed. "Did he tell you that their mother made me his guardian?"

Hank looked startled. "You've certainly got your work cut out for you...there any other family that can help you out?"

"My father and aunt," he stated. "They're coming in again next weekend for Brenda's birthday."

"Good," he stated, "make it a special one and go real easy with her. My wife is a counselor, so I know a little bit about what she's gone through."

Doug shook his head. "I feel so inadequate for all this."

"Well I can see that she trusts you, which is good."

"I don't know," he breathed, "I keep having the feeling that things are about to fall apart, but I don't know why."

Hank shoved his hands into his pockets, studying him a moment. "You a praying man?"

Taken off guard, Doug met his gaze."Let's just say I'm learning…"

"My wife and I will be in prayer for you all," he replied, his gaze lit with unusual brightness. Doug felt a bit unsettled by his manner, but nodded.

"Thanks," he sighed, noting Bobby's impatient manner as he came back with Brenda. "We need it."

"We ready to go?" Brenda asked as she reached for the handle of the stroller.

"We'll walk you back to your rental," Doug offered, walking alongside Hank. "I'll need your phone and e-mail, if you don't mind."

"Here's my card," he smiled, pulling a business card from the breast pocket of his jacket.

Doug lifted it to the light and glanced at the title under his name. "Private investigator?" he read, looking at him with a surprise.

"My first career," Hank shrugged. "I can't just sit around and enjoy retirement, can I?"

Doug shook his head. "No coincidence, is it?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

_c. 2010 by Christine Levitt_


	12. Chapter 12 A New Year

_**Chapter 12 A New Year I'm so sorry for the long delay in getting this chapter out!**_

_**Doug entered the store, cringing inwardly as his assistant manager looked up and froze. **_Tim stared at him over the display of the latest cell phones to hit the market.

"Doug?" he gaped, flashing a smile. "Hey, how you doin?" he greeted him.

Doug reached behind his back and locked the door behind him, trying to keep his expression calm. "Tim."

"Hey, I thought you weren't starting til tomorrow, man."

Forcing himself to set aside the anger and betrayal he felt, he studied Tim's expression and wondered what other aspects of their friendship had also been a lie. He'd been up late combing through the books, and with Bobby's help had finally traced a series of transactions which gave him the proof he needed. Now it was time to deal with the problem head on.

"I started yesterday," he stated, watching him intently as he paled a bit but shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I thought you wanted the store closed yesterday," he replied with a puzzled expression. "Why didn't you call me? I would have come in and helped."

He took a step toward him, flexing his injured hand. "I didn't open the store, after all."

Tim laughed nervously. "Oh I get it—you wanted a head start on the new phones—"

"I went over the books," he corrected, "never suspecting what I found."

Tim raised his brows. "You feeling ok, Doug? You look a little strange."

"I'm fine," he said calmly, feeling the rage build inside him. Wanting to shove him against the wall and demand an explanation for why he'd stolen $5000 from him, he only crossed his arms and pinned him with intense scrutiny. "You?"

"You know what, I just remembered I have a meeting," he hedged, pulling his hands from his pockets as he headed toward the door. "We could go over things later if you want—"

"You meeting will have to wait," he interrupted, reaching to catch his arm before he made it to the door. "First you're going to explain what you've done with the ledgers."

"I warned you before Doug," he stated, shaking off his restraining hold, "I'm no good with numbers."

"I have to disagree," he said quietly. "In fact, you're much cleverer that you'll admit, aren't you Tim?"

"No, not really—hey I wanted to ask how Catherine's doing…"

Doug stared back at him. "As well as can be," he answered stiffly. "She doesn't really know what hit her yet."

Tim's expression morphed toward sympathetic. "I can't imagine how you're dealing, Doug…really."

Doug pursed his lips, wanting to punch him in the face. "I'd rather not talk about personal things right now."

"No, 'course not," he nodded, summoning the courage to glance at his deformed fingers. "I've got to say, it's a good thing you're right-handed."

They were interrupted by tapping on the glass and both turned to stare out the window at the elderly woman standing there. Tim turned to let her in but Doug grabbed his arm.

"Leave it locked," he ordered.

Tim shrugged at the woman with questions in her expression. "But it's Mrs. Lawlor!"

"She'll come back," Doug insisted, smiling at her while enjoying watching Tim squirm. Mrs. Lawlor huffed in outrage and strode off.

"Doug, man," Tim worried, glancing at his expression, "you're freakin' me out," he admitted.

He dragged him by the arm toward the storeroom. "That's the idea, Tim."

"Look, man, I don't know what you're doing or talking about—"

"What I'm _talking_ about," Doug said menacingly as he shoved him into the wall, "is an assistant manager—someone I thought was my _friend—_ lying to me and robbing me behind my back!"

"What? Are you crazy?" Tim laughed. "Look, if there's a problem with the books, I messed up—"

"You manipulated a year of recordkeeping and reduced inventory to hide the discrepancies," he growled, pinning him against the wall while he searched frantically for a way of escape. "It took me all day and night to find the pattern, but with the help of an accounting whiz we traced it."

"Doug—I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"What did you do with the money, huh? Buy your spoiled girlfriend a new wardrobe? Or take her out on the town more than a few times? Let's see what might I do with $5000 if I still had my _wife_ with me?"

Tim stomped down on his foot, breaking free before he could go after him. He caught him at the door, pulling his arm around his back and holding it at an awkward angle. "Hey man—you're hurting me!" he squawked in protest.

"That's the idea," he growled, bending his arm at a more skewed angle. "I'm giving you 24 hours to pay it back before I call the police, how's that _man_?"

"I can't pay you back!" he cried, "you don't understand—"

"I don't _want_ to understand—just give it back," he warned, releasing him so abruptly that he stumbled. Wincing at the pain in his foot he watched his former roommate fumble with the lock. "Hurry up and get busy—your time's running out!"

"You're crazy!" Tim swore, finally pulling the door open. "What's gotten into you anyway?"

"Just bring it to me tomorrow—"

"All right, all right but you need to see a shrink—you're out of your mind!" he cried, running out the door.

"Yeah, I am," he panted, watching him go. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he pulled his keys from his back pocket, stepped out and locked the door behind him. Walking toward the parking lot he unlocked the door of his old Volvo, climbed in and slammed the door. All the noise of the traffic was muffled as he sat there looking at the golden glow of the sun and grieving his hard earned money. Then he felt guilty for not spending any of it on Lynne, who he should have spoiled while he still had the chance. His anger simmered at the same time he felt himself slip deeper into a dark despair.

They had gotten used to scrimping and saving, investing carefully and expanding the inventory to save for the baby's arrival and begin to put money away for her education. He and Lynne had only gone out twice in the past year, the last time when Catherine was only two months old. He remembered how Lynne hadn't wanted to leave her that night, but had agreed with his plan only when her parents convinced her that they needed to spend some time together as a couple. He shook off the old resentment he'd felt, focusing instead on the memory of Lizard's face, mocking him. Pounding the steering wheel, he cursed the monster who'd shot her and her mother and raped Brenda. Leaning forward, he turned the key and quickly shifted the car into gear. Turning around, he pulled onto the street and burned rubber as he cut into the traffic and sped up Main Street in a rage.

He drove fast toward the freeway, vaguely aware of the fact that they were waiting for him at the Carters' for dinner. Brenda had planned to celebrate her first day of classes and wanted him to join them for dinner. They'd been watching the baby all afternoon and he told himself they wouldn't mind if he was late. So he took the ramp for the interstate and drove west, his thoughts distracted as he jammed his foot onto the accelerator and pushed the car to its limits.

_**Brenda slowly put the phone back, her heart thumping in her chest. **_Memories of Nick flooded her mind despite her determination to block them out—the day he'd first asked her out and how thrilled she'd been. She remembered thinking he was so cool and aloof, darkly mysterious and a guy who made her the envy of her friends. They were all supposed to have gone to Cancun until she'd failed to raise her share of the cost. Her parents had refused to subsidize the trip, and he'd called tonight to plan it again. Oh, he'd been very charming on the phone, but all she'd wanted to do was get rid of him. When he said he'd come over she'd made excuses he eventually accepted. But as she listened to his conversation she only felt empty and detached.

_What did I ever see in him? _she wondered, discounting his handsome dark looks and smooth talk. He was self-centered and immature, and his one-time unfaithful act labeled someone not to be trusted, even though he'd begged for her forgiveness. That had been a year ago, and they'd been together ever since. At least until now. Now she only felt foolish and shallow for being deceived by his dark brown eyes, flashing white smile and flirtatious manner. When he'd finally hung up she was relieved, but knew it wouldn't be the last time he'd call.

Lying back against the arm of the couch, she eyed the silent baby monitor, grateful that Catherine was a sound sleeper. Clutching the pillow to her chest she lay back and wondered where Doug was. Catherine missed his good night story and kisses, and had fretted before falling off. Now it was past midnight and he still hadn't returned.

"I'm being paranoid," she whispered, telling herself that he'd called Bobby's cell earlier to say he had something to do and not to worry if he was back late. He had the spare key and had said he'd crash on the couch, then take Catherine home with him the next morning. Yet she still worried about him. Last night he'd been strangely silent, particularly after he and Bobby deciphered the problem with the ledgers from his store. It was obvious that Tim, his former college roommate and assistant manager had extorted money from him, and Doug told them he would confront him about it today. But she sensed something else was going on with him, even before that. Since their meeting with Hank and his deputy-sheriff brother, Doug had been different. Something in his eyes put her on edge now and made her fear for his safety. Or his sanity. She remembered all the things Tina had warned her about when a person lost their spouse, and prayed that he wasn't heading for a breakdown.

_Please God, don't let him do anything to himself, _she worried in the half-hearted kind of prayer she'd become used to. She knew what despair felt like from what she'd suffered, but it had never crossed her mind to harm herself, not since Lizard had held the gun to her head and she'd told him to shoot. That had been a moment of sheer terror, for her greatest fear then was that he'd force himself on her again. She had thought facing death a preferable fate then. But now she had made it past that dark place of wanting to die, and was recovering slowly. But she wasn't so sure Doug had.

"He's got so much to live for," she whispered to help convince herself. "He has Catherine, and us…he would never do anything to harm himself…"

The minutes ticked by, and upstairs she heard Beast yawn and thump his tail upon the floor. Eventually he settled back to sleep and the house was very still. She sat staring into the darkness, but after a few minutes she became aware of a sound, like the distant hum of an engine. It came closer, and then ended abruptly. Stiffening, she sat up and listened more closely. Beyond the heavy walls of the house she heard a door shut, then steps upon the porch. Getting up, she moved to the edge of the foyer and stared at the front door. The porch light was on, and she watched as a dark shadow crossed the sidelights. A key scraped in the lock and the bolt turned. As she watched the knob turned slowly and then the door opened. She knew his silhouette immediately and was flooded with relief. But when he closed the door behind him, bolted it and turned she held her breath.

Even in the dim light she could see that he was a mess, his hair mussed and his clothing dirty. His shoulders slumped as he placed the key on the side table. Leaning back into the shadows she heard him exhale and watched him raise a hand to his glasses, a gesture that was now familiar. When she remembered that he planned to sleep on the couch she'd just vacated, she turned and retreated into the kitchen as quietly as she could.

"Who's there?" he whispered before she could start. She stopped abruptly, wondering how he'd heard her. Listening to the sound of his shoes upon the carpet, she stepped out into the dim light.

"It's me, Doug," she whispered loud enough for him to hear.

He stopped abruptly, staring at her as he lifted a hand to push back a clump of hair. "You still up?"

"Yeah," she breathed, bending to turn on the lamp by the threshold. She tried not to stare at his wan expression or the dark torment of his eyes. "You missed dinner."

He held her gaze, finally lifting a hand to the back of his neck. "Waiting up for me?" he asked softly.

Stunned by his perceptiveness, she lifted her chin to deny it. "I couldn't sleep."

He dropped his hand and started toward the couch, releasing her from his gaze. "Well I'm beat…if you don't mind, I'll just crash here tonight."

"But I made up Lynne's—"

Her words trailed off at the pain in his expression when she mentioned her sister's name. "Sure, that's fine," she said instead. "Catherine's sound asleep; even Bobby went to bed early—I guess he hasn't gotten used to getting up so early for school."

He nodded, sitting down stiffly and leaning forward, arms on his knees. He bent his head and seemed to stare at the floor. She could feel the tension in him and told herself that he wanted to be alone. Still she hesitated, deciding that the last thing he needed was to be alone.

"Can I get you anything?" she whispered. "Something to eat? We saved your dinner—"

"I'm fine," he sighed, finally looking up. He forced a tired smile. "Good night."

Ignoring the hint she approached him. "Nick called me tonight," she stated, focusing on the first topic of conversation she could think of. "He wants to get back together…"

He looked away, flexing his healing hand. "Haven't you seen him, now that classes have started?"

"No," she answered, moving closer. Slowly lowering herself to sit on the edge of the coffee table, she wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder but didn't dare to. "…I've been avoiding it."

He sighed tiredly, massaging the back of his neck. "Look Brenda—"

"I don't know how to tell him I don't want to see him again," she quickly confessed. "I _can't_ see him, Doug. I've changed too much—you understand, don't you…we're not the same people anymore, any of us?"

He leaned back then, pushing into the soft cushions. "I can't talk about this," he said hoarsely, closing his eyes, "not now."

She leaned forward, placing her hand on his arm. He stiffened beneath her touch as she continued. "I used to really like him," she admitted, needing to tell someone. _To tell him._ "But now I don't even like the sound of his voice…I don't ever want to see him again, but I don't know how to tell him or make him accept that."

His eyes opened and he studied her a moment. "Just tell him the truth, but not that way," he sighed, running a hand down his face. "I'm sorry but I've got a pounding headache I need to take care—"

"Say no more!" she squeaked, getting to her feet. "I'll get you some aspirin and water."

"You don't have to…"

She rushed toward the kitchen, trying to calm her fears about him as she searched for the aspirin. He was all sweaty and dirty, with a wild look in his eyes that was alarming at first. She wondered where he'd been all this time as with shaking hands she filled a glass with water and grabbed the aspirin bottle. She entered the living room, finding him in the exact position in which she'd left him.

"Here—take three," she ordered, shaking the tablets into his open palm when he lifted his hand. She studied the stumps of his fingers, surprised that they no longer shocked her. They were part of his hand, and he'd lost them defending Catherine and seeing her and Bobby to safety.

"Alright," he sighed, lifting his gaze to her face. She saw the loneliness in his eyes and smiled brightly, handing over the glass. He took it and downed the aspirin, draining the entire glass of water. She watched in mute fascination as his throat worked, his Adam's apple bobbing beneath the masculine strength of his neck. There was a light sheen of perspiration on his skin and his shirt was half opened, reminding her of the time he'd stumbled back into camp bloody and injured, holding Catherine close.

_What are you doing? _she screamed inwardly, _you can't bear the thought of being near Nick, yet here you are admiring Doug!_

"Thanks," he said huskily, leaning forward to place the empty glass on the table. Then he leaned back into the cushions and rested his head back. His shirt tightened in places to reveal his muscled chest, and beyond his open collar she saw the jagged edge of the scar that if it had cut deeper would have hit an artery. At least that's what the medic told her. Even looking at it gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Does it hurt?" she thought aloud, catching herself. Glancing up, she saw his eyes open to study her lazily as he wiped the moisture from his bottom lip.

"Does what hurt?" he asked softly.

She bit her lower lip but held his gaze. "The scar running down your chest."

His lips tightened as his gaze fell away. She opened her mouth to apologize. "Doug I'm—"

"Not as much as the hole in my heart," he said quietly.

For a moment neither of them spoke. The silence in the room became pregnant as she scrambled for some kind of response. He swallowed hard, his eyes closed now. Very slowly she sat down next to him, then reached over and took his hand between hers. Squeezing it gently, she felt tears threaten to spill over but when his fingers closed around her hand they did. She heard him swallow again, and watched as he covered his eyes with his other hand.

"Oh Doug."

He choked back a sob and exhaled forcefully as she squeezed his hand tighter. Then he leaned forward, jabbing his elbow onto his thigh and cradling his forehead with his hand. He tried holding in his grief as she moved closer, putting her hand on his back. Then he lost his battle with it and began to shake with silent sobs.

She wrapped her arms around him and held on until he turned and gripped her like a lifeline. Holding him close, she felt his head move to the crook of her shoulder as he released his pain. Crying with him she held on tight. After some time he heaved a few sighs and eased his grip on her waist. They held each other as the clock softly struck two tones.

"What happened?" she whispered, lifting a hand to gently stroke the back of his head. "Where were you all night?"

He took a deep breath and gently disengaged himself from her grip, falling back against the cushions and raising a hand to his head. Clearly drained, he looked too exhausted to speak. So she moved back to his side and lowered her head to his shoulder. Reaching for his hand again, she stroked his knuckles with her thumb as he shuddered.

"I—" he choked, swallowing hard before trying again. "I drove off in a rage, after leaving the store," he admitted. "I was so angry at Tim…"

She shifted her chin to the top of his shoulder, studying his profile. To her surprise he turned his head toward her, but did not open his eyes. He breathed in, as if trying to inhale her comfort.

"What did you say to him?"

"Return the money or I'll call the police," he answered tiredly. He opened his eyes and studied her at close range. She felt his hand turn and hold hers. "I drove up the freeway, ended up at some park and ran up the trail. When I came back it was dark, so I drove around and ended up face down on your sister's grave."

She buried her face against his shoulder and slid her arm behind his back. "I'm glad you came over."

He seemed to realize that he held her hand atop his thigh, and slowly released it. She removed her arm, feeling like she was blushing as they inched up higher against the cushions. Then he glanced at her and nodded. "Thanks for putting up with me."

She nodded. "No problem…Bobby and I put _you_ through enough," she reminded him.

He nodded. "Guess that's what family does."

"Yeah, I guess so," she agreed. Stretching, she forced herself to get up. "This sofa is way too comfortable," she joked.

"I'll be fine here," he reassured her. "I should probably clean up first.."

"Of course," she nodded. "The guest bathroom is all set up. I'll leave a pillow and linens on the couch for you."

"Thanks—do you think I could borrow some of your dad's clothes to change into? These are pretty dirty."

"As a matter of fact Mom left a bag of clothes to give away—they're in the hall closet in the plastic bag…help yourself."

"I'll return them in a day or two," he stated, pushing up his glasses. "Thanks, for everything…"

She bowed her head in acknowledgement. "Goodnight, then."

"Good night," he said softly, watching her closely.

She turned at the bottom of the stairs and waved, smiling shyly. "Take care."

As she climbed the stairs, she felt his gaze following her.

_**Leaning his forehead against the tiles, he let the hot water stream over him.**_Despite scrubbing off all his sweat, dirt and anger he still felt unclean. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and switched the showerhead to massage, lowering his arms to support himself. Hard pellets of water hit the back of his neck, working at the muscles tightened by all kinds of emotion. He knew there was no excuse for his rage, but couldn't deny the relief he felt at finally crying out all his pain, even in front of Brenda. And she'd been great. He'd wanted to be alone, but was grateful to her that she'd stayed with him. The loneliness was the worst part, as was never being touched except by his daughter. It had felt good to be held in her arms, even though it made him feel like a baby at first. But he wasn't too proud to deny he'd needed to be held.

Throwing back his head, he flattened his palms against the wall and let the water stream down his face. Opening his mouth, he rinsed it and relished its relief. If only it could relieve the pain inside. Again he felt a surge of emotion overtake him at the thought, and bowed his head once again.

_God, I can't take this, _he whispered, shaking his head. _I can't take the loneliness, especially in my own house._

He felt sudden shame for his weakness, breaking down in front of Brenda. "As if she doesn't have enough to handle," he chided himself. I'm supposed to be the head of this family, he thought, feeling completely unfit for the task.

_You're only human …_

He chuckled cynically, smoothing his hair back off his forehead. "That's painfully clear by now."

_Draw on my strength, my son. _

"I don't know how," he argued. "And I don't want to be religious!"

_I don't want you to be religious…just stay close to me._

He pursed his lips and reached for the handle, turning off the water. Snagging the towel, he lifted it to his face and inhaled its clean lavender scent. It was soothing, that fragrance that seemed to hint of Brenda somehow.

"Yeah, she probably does all the laundry," he said to himself, drying his hair and body quickly. He felt drained and weak from exhaustion, and reached for the old shirt and running pants that had belonged to his father-in-law.

"If Big Bob could see me now," he considered, feeling shame at his treatment of the guy. Even though he'd teased him mercilessly.

After dressed quickly he padded toward the living room, stopping to examine the fluffy pillow, sheet and two blankets making the couch into a bed for him. With a sigh he lowered himself into the waiting cushions and settled into the bliss of their comfort. Thanking Brenda in his mind, he stared into the semi-darkness and prayed for strength. Closing his eyes, he thought of his baby girl sleeping in the room above, connected by the baby monitor sitting close by. Pulling the blankets to his chin, he sighed deeply and gave himself up to welcome sleep.

"_**Doug, where are you? I've left messages the past two days," **_she repeated. "I really need to talk to you—can you just pick up?"

Listening and waiting, she finally sighed in frustration and hung up. Picking up her keys, she thought of Bobby at SAT practice and grabbed her mother's Bible. Just that morning she'd found her note written in the margin by chapter 53 in the book of Isaiah the prophet. It had surprised her, even shocked her: _Pray that Doug finds his Messiah…the Lord Jesus._

Cold dread ran through her at the thought of her mother praying that. She frowned. Wasn't he acceptable as a Jew? Or were her notes in the New Testament also true? This was a real concern, for her mother's prayers had already affected on her own life, and even Bobby's. They'd lost their rebellious dismissal of all things religious, or at least no longer made fun of it. And Bobby confessed to having listened to one of the pastor's tapes after she'd heard it going in his room one night—but only after she'd questioned him about it. But he'd said nothing more.

She considered her plan to drive over to Doug's a bold move, not having seen him since the night he'd wept in her arms, except for a few brief pick-up and drop-off meetings to share the baby's care. She would have thought that sharing what they had that night would've made things easier with him, but the opposite had occurred. When she got up the next morning he'd already left with Catherine, and since then had made himself scarce. He stopped returning calls, which was why she had to go over there. He might not like it, but it was the right thing to do. Or at least she'd convinced herself it was.

Twenty minutes later she pulled into the empty driveway and cut the engine, wondering if he was home. His car was nowhere to be seen, but she decided he must have parked it in the garage. There were no windows in the garage door to check so she walked up to the door, knocked and waited…

When there was no answer she took out the key he'd given her and let herself in, walking quietly through the house. To her surprise it was clean and picked up, everything in order. She glanced at the baby monitor, which was turned off. That meant the baby was up, and since it was almost 5:30 she thought they must be having dinner. Heading for the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of them out in the sunroom and halted, watching them by the entrance to the kitchen.

He was sitting with one hand on Catherine's arm as she sat in her high chair, his gaze beyond the windows. She had green slime all over her face, but Brenda's heart leap for joy at the sight of her. Doug was another story. She didn't like his tense posture or the distracted way he stared out into the back yard. Wondering what had happened to him she tried to gather her thoughts when suddenly he turned, staring at her without expression. He looked terrible, pale and with a few days' growth of whiskers. His hair was a mess and his jeans had a huge hole in the knee. As he continued to stare at her, she lifted her chin and walked toward them, pushing open the glass door to the sunroom.

"I tried calling," she explained herself, searching the haunted and vacant look in his eyes.

_That look has got to go,_ she decided. _He's not going to stay in this state, not if I have anything to do with it! Lynne certainly wouldn't have wanted it either. _

"What are you doing here?" he asked hoarsely, ignoring the baby's excited squeal of delight when she saw her. Catherine lifted her arms toward her as he gently wiped the baby food from her little face. "You're a mess, little pumpkin…"

Brenda crossed her arms, perturbed by his greeting. "Don't you know what day it is?"

Distracted by Catherine's struggle against the washcloth, he didn't answer. She came right up to his side and planted one hand on her hip, the other on the back of his chair. "You look terrible, by the way," she added.

He looked up with a cynical smile, the transformation nearly overwhelming her. _What a smile does to his face, _she marveled, _even a cynical one …_

"Why thank you, ma'am," he drawled, eyeing her outfit. "Why are you all dressed up? What's the occasion—another funeral?"

She beamed at his sarcasm. "It's Rosh Hashanah tonight—aren't you going to services?"

He got up and lifted Catherine out of her high chair, cradling her against his shoulder as he headed for the sink with the dirty dishes. "I wasn't planning on it," he sighed.

She followed him and stood watching him rinse the dishes while Catherine squirmed against his hold and stretched toward her. Unable to watch her struggle, she reached out and took her from him, kissing her cheek and hugging her close as he frowned and started to wash his hands.

"I know just the dress for you to wear," she told her, glancing at him. "Lynne bought it for her to wear for New Year's a while ago, when we were out shopping."

He stiffened at the mention of Lynne, but said nothing. Covertly studying the lines of strain around his lips and at the corner of one eye, she guessed he'd not been sleeping much.

"We're not going," he said in a warning tone.

Knowing sympathy would get her nowhere, she tried a different approach. "But your aunt called and invited Bobby and me over here for late lunch tomorrow," she informed him.

He turned to put the remaining formula in the refrigerator, ignoring her. "Apparently she's coming here in the morning with your father to cook a big dinner. Even _Bobby _wants to come."

He glanced down at her, clearly unimpressed. "So _they _put you up to this."

"No, it was you not answering my calls," she retorted, lifting her chin. "You know how I worry if I can't get in touch with someone."

He finished sponging the countertop and drying his hands. Throwing the dish towel down, he took Catherine from her with a warning glance not to nag him. "How do you know about _Rosh Hashanah_ anyway?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's on the calendar, in case you haven't noticed."

He threw the baby bib into the sink by the washing machine. "Why would you want to go?"

"Why wouldn't _you_?" she shot back, noting his vacant expression. "Look you've got to come—Bobby won't and I can hardly go by myself!"

"Why can't you?" he demanded, patting Catherine's back. "No sweetheart, Daddy's got you."

"Let me take her while you get dressed—"

"I said we're not going—Catherine stop fussing," he groaned.

"She wants me for a change," she scolded, taking the baby back with a triumphant smile. "See?"

He ran a hand down his grizzled cheek. "You have every right to go and nobody will bite you," he stated, "though they might surround you and demand an explanation for my absence," he drawled.

She ducked back from the baby's grab at her dangling earring. "Won't it be too crowded to notice?"

"Oh they'll notice, especially since we had the chevra here for shiva," he sighed.

She looked up at him in frustration. "Am I supposed to know that that is?"

He smiled knowingly. "Pretend you do—time to change the baby," he hinted, heading toward the stairs.

She followed close behind, gripping the banister since she was wearing high heels. "Then you might as well come with me before they start calling to find out why you didn't."

"They already have," he called, entering the bathroom where he single-handedly turned on the tub and poured in baby bubble bath. Then he reached for Catherine, laid her on the counter and began to unfasten her onesie. "That's why I take advantage of the answering machine—try it sometime."

She leaned against the counter as he knelt by the tub and lowered Catherine into the bubbles after he tested the temperature of the water.

"Awfully cynical, aren't we Mr. Bukowski?" she noted casually. "Paranoid too."

"Am I," he stated more than asked, sponging the baby as she slapped the water happily. He worked quickly, glancing over her shoulder at her from time to time. "You try going into a crowd of people who can't say anything but 'I'm so sorry' and 'how are you managing?'"

She folded her arms at her waist, considering his words as she watched his daughter soak him with water, which didn't seem to faze him in the least. _That_ she had to admire about him, she decided.

"Or how about this one: 'I have a single daughter I'd like you to meet—she's very talented and not bad looking either'?"

She covered a laugh with her hand as he glanced up, his brow furrowed in frustration. "You think I'm kidding?"

"They wouldn't be matchmaking _already_, would they?"

He grabbed a towel and used it to pick up Catherine. He carried her to the changing table and set her down, drying her quickly as he held a clean diaper between his teeth to free up both hands. She watched in fascination, impressed at his deft proficiency in fastening the diaper.

"Go ahead," he suggested without looking up, "they'll try it on you too but who knows—maybe you'll get a few proposals yourself from mothers who want to marry off their bachelor sons!"

She waved a hand. "That won't be a problem—I'm not Jewish, remember?"

He glanced up, shaking his head as if not wanting to bother explaining. "So we're back to square one—why go to services if you have to go alone?"

_So that was it? _she wondered. _I thought Lynne didn't go with him, but maybe she did. _"Because it's important," she replied, "and it's your heritage…"

"Like your religion is important to you," he prodded, throwing her a glance.

She sat down on the arm of the chair, watching him brush Catherine's hair so that it would dry flat. "Well what about Catherine—aren't you going to raise her in something?"

"Not right now," he sighed, avoiding her eyes. "She's too young and I haven't the strength."

"I don't know what you mean—"

"How about 'You look terrible,'" he repeated her greeting.

She colored with embarrassment. "All right I'm sorry—sometimes I think something and it pops out before I can stop it."

"Yeah well," he huffed as he lifted the baby to go to her wardrobe, "that could get you into a lot of trouble if you're not careful."

"It already has," she shot back, getting up. "You know I thought that when you had the services here they seemed to help but I guess I was wrong!" she snapped, turning to go.

"Wait, Brenda," he stopped her. She turned and met his gaze. "Look I'm sorry," he said, his eyes softening. "I'm not in the greatest mood."

She shrugged. "I'm sorry for being a nag. It's none of my business what you do."

He sighed, obviously regretting his own behavior. "I feel bad that you got all dressed up for nothing," he admitted, eyeing her objectively. "You look nice, by the way."

She glanced down at her outfit. "Is this appropriate? Because the dress is a little short…" she said, trying to tug it down below her knees.

"It's fine," he breathed, lying out a clean onesie for Catherine. "You'll blend right in, dressed that conservatively."

"Don't I need a hat?" she worried, patting the back of her French braid.

"No," he drawled, his eyes lifting to her upswept hair. "Only in an orthodox temple."

"But what do I do once I get there, sit with the women?" she wondered. "Is there a special section?"

"Hardly," he stated, shaking his head. "Don't you remember, from the memorial service?"

"I didn't really look around too much," she admitted. "It was a little intimidating."

He smiled lazily, handing the baby her toy polar bear. "And you think _I'm_ paranoid."

She looked up at him hopefully. "Please, Doug, you have to come—see how inept I am at this kind of thing?"

He shook his head. "Brenda."

"—please, at least for Catherine's sake?" she pleaded, clasping her hands in supplication. "The matchmakers won't bother me if you're there, and vice versa if I go with you?"

He put Catherine in her crib and started for the door. "You'll need a ticket to get in," he warned as he passed her on his way out. "On the table in the downstairs hall."

"But what about Ceil?" she prodded, following him out. He stood with his back to her, about to go into the master bedroom. He hung his head. "If you don't you'll have a lot of explaining to do when she arrives."

He lifted his head. "I forgot about that," he admitted, turning to glance at her over his shoulder. "She'll ask if we went."

"You could tell her not to meddle?"

"No, I mean she'll ask her new friends if we went," he clarified, studying her expression. Then he exhaled a reluctant sigh. "You win—give me a few minutes to change."

"Really?" she squeaked, grabbing his sleeve. "You'll come with me?"

He straightened to his full height, making her head reach the top of his shoulder. "Appears I have no choice."

"Then can I change Catherine into the dress, while you're getting ready?"

He turned, waving a hand behind him. "If you insist…"

"What about the ticket problem?" she called after him, staring into the master bedroom. It looked it hadn't been used in weeks. _Which it hadn't._

"The temple mailed me three, as a gratuity."

"Why three?"

"I have no idea…give me a few minutes."

_**Doug eyed Brenda again, curious at her reactions. **_It was clearly still a new experience for her, and as he sat by her side holding Catherine he covertly studied her reactions. Services were familiar enough to him, allowing him to guide her through the different sections of the siddur so she could follow along, reading the English portions on the facing pages. She seemed to enjoy the crowded sanctuary, studying the different families and children all dressed up for the holiday. He could see Lynne's taste by the dress she'd chosen for Catherine, for it was a sapphire satin dress that made her huge eyes appear even more blue. She looked happy too, putting him to shame for his dour mood and almost making him wish he'd shaved for the occasion.

They got to their feet for the mourner's kaddish and he steeled himself against it, unable to bring himself to repeat it. But Brenda had read it before at the memorial service and understood it. He noted the tears she wiped from the corner of her eye as she moved closer to his side, as if sharing the emotions with him. But unlike her he felt numb, finding it impossible to praise God despite the loss of his wife. In fact the prayer angered him, for Lynne's death had nothing at all to do with God's will, but Lizard's: he had been the one to shoot her and their mother; he had been the one who raped Brenda.

Glanced sideways at her, he was still amazed at her petite stature and build, feeling rage for what she had suffered at those monsters' hands. She was even smaller than Lynne, and next to her he felt tall and capable of protecting her, though he had failed in that quite miserably. He hadn't even looked in her direction that night when they were attacking her—he'd been too busy trying to save her father. _Another failure._

They went on through the prayers, making him even more aware of his own crimes which still haunted him by day and night. It was hard enough sleeping, but the images of the horrified expressions of his victims intruded upon his thoughts in the daytime as well. Although he often repented of murder, even though he had committed it in self-defense, he gained no forgiveness from the dead, now long gone into eternity. Whether justified or not, he'd still killed and enjoyed the killing—for that he had no peace. He knew he needed therapy, but had put it off too many times to start now.

The closing chants filled Brenda's expression with wonder, their ancient tunes moving her in some way he could not relate to. And her reactions seemed to attract not a few interested glimpses, from men and from women in the congregation. And he had to admit, she looked stunning with her blonde hair plaited in an intricate braid. Tiny pearl earrings dangled just above the collar of her black and white suit dress. He frowned and pulled his attention back to the siddur, trying not to think of the offers she would get here, Jewish or not. He knew he should be grateful that all the attention was on Brenda and Catherine, but instead he felt frustrated and angry, a mass of contradictions.

By the time the shofar blew he was ready to bolt, and eyeing the rows of people filing toward the aisles he took her hand. But everyone was wishing each other a happy new year, hugging and kissing each other. He accepted a kiss from the elderly woman who'd introduced herself at shiva as Lynne's friend, turning to Brenda's expectant smile. When she raised her brows he bent and quickly kissed her cheek, then Catherine's. Turning quickly, he guided her through the row and out into the aisle, heading for the nearest exit. Nodding curtly and replying with the greeting he cradled Catherine closer on their way out.

At the stairs he slowed down due to Brenda's high heels, which tapped on the tiles all the way to the door. He shoved it open, holding it for her and glancing heavenward in thanksgiving when they were free. The streets were busy from all the cars leaving and people streaming across the intersection, but he guided her back toward the car, relieved to be going home.

"You know we don't have anything like that in church," she informed him. "The shofar sounds so eerie and wonderful at the same time, doesn't it?"

He kept his gaze on the light, willing it to change before one of the gossips came along. "I know…"

"And it's so nice when everybody hugs and kisses," she gushed, looking up at him.

He pursed his lips, almost smiling when the light changed. "Yeah, let's go."

"Where is everybody rushing off to—a home-cooked meal?"

"More likely Chinese take-out," he muttered.

She bumped into his side, sidestepping a root that had pushed up the sidewalk. He felt her hand tighten on his arm as she regained her balance.

"Sorry," she breathed happily, "damn high heels."

He chuckled and Catherine let out a shrill squeal of delight. "My sentiments exactly," he told her, eyeing Brenda. "Let's get back to Auntie Ceil's cooking, shall we?"

"Of course," she laughed, her color high as the setting sun lit white highlights in her hair. "Daddy's hungry, baby girl," she added, winking to Catherine as she moved around the car to the passenger door as he hit the unlock key. He opened the back and leaned in to put Catherine in her seat, then climbed in himself.

He felt her eye on him as he buckled up and turned the key. "What?" he demanded, glancing over at her smug smile.

She shrugged. "Nothing."

He smirked, facing front and putting the directional on. "That's what they all say."

"It's going to be a better year," she sighed as he pulled out of the parking space.

He glanced at her again. "Oh yeah? What were you really thinking?"

"Honestly?"

"Definitely."

"All right—I was thinking you look good with that scraggly beard."

He turned to gaze at her in surprise. "I thought I looked terrible."

"Oh that—I was referring to the dark circles under your eyes."

He directed his attention back to the road. "Great."

Her impish laugh filled the car, and Catherine sang out with her.

And he wondered if maybe the new year might have a chance to be a better one.

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt_


	13. Chapter 13 The Website

_**Chapter 13 The Website**_

"_**Look at all the names…" he said quietly, staring at the screen of his desktop. **_His right hand clicked and maneuvered the mouse as he scrolled down the list of victims the sheriff's department had e-mailed them. "And look where they're from."

Brenda pushed her shoulder into his as she inched closer, eyes wide. "All over the country…no, some from Canada too…"

He turned his head to meet her gaze. "I never imagined this many…"

She bit her lower lip and glanced back at the screen. "Keep going…then try the photos."

Directing the cursor to the icon he clicked it, holding his breath as the pictures began to load. There were too many thumbnails for one screen, so he dragged the side bar down to the bottom of the file and paused.

"I'm not sure I want to see them," he admitted, "and it could take hours."

"I just want to see the others," she encouraged, "that way we'll know which ones of Lynnie to use, and of Mom and Dad."

He chose a random file and double clicked it, waiting for it to open. A 5x9 color photograph spread over the screen as they stared at it. There was a young man and his father, both holding fishing poles and smiling, staring back at them in mute testimony of their affection. He swallowed and read the caption.

"Glenn Morgan, age 45," he breathed, going on. "Son Evan, age 19, before their trip to New Mexico."

"Go back," she ordered, resting her chin on his upper arm. "I want to read who posted it."

"Wait, what's that—in the faded writing below?"

"_We miss you more each day_," she read, squinting her eyes, "_…your loving wife and sister." _

He clicked the back button and the entry opened. "Last seen April 2007 in Missoula as they left for vacation," he read with a sigh.

"They just posted this two days ago," she commented, looking him in the eyes. "So it doesn't get any easier."

"Didn't think so," he said, shaking his head.

She nudged the hand by the mouse. "Can I check a few more?"

He lifted it and leaned back to stretch, feeling stiff. "We've been at this for two hours already," he informed her. "I'm beat, and I've got to put the baby to bed."

"But we're just getting to the good part," she protested. "Reading through all those reports was tough, and I want to see the real people, not their statistics."

"We've got company, too," he stated, feeling guilty for letting them clean up alone. "Tomorrow."

"Please? Just a few more?" she pleaded. "I promise to log off and shut down."

He sighed tiredly. "All right, but frankly I'd have thought you'd had enough by now…I'm going to see what's going on."

Leaving her in his office he headed toward the family room, hearing the television. Rounding the corner, he stopped and leaned against the doorway. Bobby lay a few feet from the screen, his back propped back against the bottom of the couch and his expression a blank stare. Some documentary on polar bears was on. His father was absorbed in the newspaper, as usual.

"Doug, come sit with us," he ordered without looking up. "Your aunt's giving the baby her bath."

Bobby glanced up at him. "Hey," he sighed before returning his gaze to the tv.

Doug stepped over his legs and sat in the opposite corner of the cough, nudging Bobby's shoulder with his leg to get him to move out of the way so he could sit down. "Hey make yourself at home," he quipped, sitting heavily. Reaching up to pull off his glasses, he rubbed the place between his eyes.

"I have, thank you very much," Bobby drawled, "hey can somebody make some popcorn?"

Abe turned a page and glanced down over his half-glasses. "What does this look like, a restaurant?"

"No, a movie theatre," Bobby smiled. "Pleeeeese?"

"I'd have thought you stuffed enough into that scrawny frame of yours to last at least a few hours," he stated, glancing over at Doug. "What's the matter—another headache?"

"Yeah, what else?" he breathed, leaning his head back. "While you're at it Bobby, get me a cup of coffee will you?"

"I'm not the waiter, you are."

"Yeah right," he shot back, draping his arm over the upholstered arm of the couch. "And don't even think of asking Ceil."

"I was planning on calling for my slave Brenda."

"She's still on the computer," he warned. "I wouldn't interrupt her if I were you."

With a groan and great effort Bobby pulled himself up and sauntered off. "I don't know why she's so interested in all those other people…"

"That's black coffee," he called after him, "and bring the aspirin will you?"

Abe folded the paper and rested it on the cushion, eyeing him. "You really should follow up with the neurologist."

"I already did, and he said the post-concussion headaches could last another month," he droned, massaging his temple. "And I thought losing my fingers would be the worst."

Abe eyed the door. "You don't actually think he'll get the aspirin for you?"

"No, not really—I was just resting my eyes," he smoked. "Though I suppose I should give him the benefit of the doubt, at least until his popcorn is ready."

Abe shook his head. "You know seeing the therapist Sy recommended wouldn't hurt either."

"Dad please," he sighed, putting his glasses back on and studying his father's worried expression. "I'll be fine."

"Fine, huh? What you went through was far from a normal experience, and I can tell you're not sleeping," he argued. "You need your health and stamina to take care of Catherine… keeping everything bottled up inside isn't good either."

"Anything else, Dad?" he wanted to know, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. "Look, it's just that I've been so busy. I'll get a routine going, but this thing with Tim stealing the money didn't help."

"Aren't his 24 hours already up?" he said with a look of disgust. Getting up, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweater. "Although since it's a holiday you really shouldn't report him."

"I'll do it in the morning," he promised, "unless by some strange compulsion he's still planning on bringing it over."

"Yeah, well I'm not so sure him knowing where you live is such a great idea."

"What do you want me to do Dad, move?" he countered, wincing in pain and shaking his head. "Look I'm sorry…I should probably go lie down and get rid of this."

Abe waited but he didn't move. "You need a security system in this house, like the one the Carters have."

"I don't have that kind of money, especially not now."

"This whole mess is unbelievable," Abe complained. "The funny thing is, he seemed like a good person."

"Yeah well I guess he fooled us all."

Abe nodded his head toward the office. "She gonna be ok in there," he said just above a whisper, "looking through all that stuff?"

Doug eyed the door. "Actually I think it helps…distributes the outrage over a broader reach."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Seeing the other victims lessens the sense of being violated, I'd think."

"How the Army could let that kind of thing get so out of control is beyond me," his father stated. "And to bully the local authorities to make them back down…it's a wonder some investigative reporter didn't get involved at the onset. I just don't know what this world is coming to."

"Yeah well the problem began well before my generation, Dad…we're talking several decades ago."

"You've got me there," he admitted.

"We'll probably write up a form letter to send out," Doug told him, "just to introduce ourselves and get a feel for where people stand."

"So the sheriff's department gave you all their e-mails?"

"And more information that I would have wanted," he replied. "They'll be monitoring the activity on the site to glean any helpful information. Our part is purely social support, while they handle the legal aspects."

"Sounds pretty reasonable," Abe nodded. "Just don't let it consume your life, Doug—or Brenda's."

"I'll try not to, but it won't be easy," he frowned, glancing toward the direction of his office. "She wants to choose the photo of Lynne and frankly I don't care if she does. I'm not up to it, to be honest."

Abe nodded. "Good for her…"

Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of popcorn exploding inside the microwave, its scent wafting toward them.

"You know it's pretty remarkable that she dragged you to services today."

He looked up, noting the twinkle in his father's eyes. "I didn't feel up for that either, Dad."

"Don't make it a habit, son…you know I think she's good for you—you need someone like her around to keep you going, unless you'd rather have your aunt and me do it—"

"No, that's fine," he said, holding up one hand. "I'll be okay. I'm just…trying to adjust."

"Coffee, black," Bobby announced, entering with a large bowl of popcorn and a mug which he extended. "Here you go, Sire," he joked before turning to lower himself back to the rug. He put the bowl in his lap and settled back into his documentary.

"Thanks," Doug said in surprise, looking up at his father at the sound of the door bell. Bobby tossed a bottle of aspirin at him, which he caught it mid-air. "Can we have some of that too?"

"Maybe," he drawled, smiling around his popcorn kernels but not taking his eyes off the screen. "If you're good."

"I'll get it," Abe waved, turning to leave them. "I'll get rid of them—probably some fundraiser."

"I see flashing lights out there," Ceil's voice trailed down the stairs, "…we're coming down!"

Out in the foyer Doug heard the door open, then his father's voice. "Something wrong?"

"I'm Officer Connors… Detective Basso," a deep voice announced. Doug tenses, setting aside the aspiring and getting up. "We're looking for Mr. Bukowski."

"I'm Mr. Bukowski."

Doug hesitated. "Mr. Doug Bukowski—he home?"

"What's this about?"

"I'm Doug Bukowski," he told them, coming toward his father. "Is there a problem, officers?"

"You're Douglas Bukowski?" the older man asked as he reached into his back pocket.

"Yes, but I don't—"

"We'd like to ask you a few questions," he ordered, flashing his badge. "We can talk out here, if you prefer."

Doug glanced out at the cruiser parked at the end of the driveway, blocking it. "Please, come in," Abe conceded, stepping aside and throwing him a worried glance.

Ceil halted on the stairs, holding Catherine. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

"Doug?" Brenda called as she came into the foyer, stopping abruptly. He heard the tv switch off as Bobby came out from the family room. They all stared at him in shock.

"We can talk in the kitchen," he offered, leading the way with his father following. They followed, leaving Bobby to close the door, an expression of wonder on his face.

"What's wrong?" Ceil whispered to him as he passed, but he shook his head and continued past her.

They gathered around the table, where he gestured for them to sit. Remaining on his feet, he crossed his arms as the younger officer stood opposite him and pulled out a small notebook and pencil.

"What's the problem, Detective?" he asked the man staring up at him.

"You're younger than I imagined—you acquainted with a Mr. Tim Hegstrom?"

He blanched, feeling as if an anchor dropped inside his gut. "He's the assistant manager of my store."

"Do you have any other relationship with him?"

He glanced at his father, whose expression was cautious. "They were roommates in college."

"And up until recently he was a best friend," Doug added.

The detective raised his brows, glancing at the officer to be sure he was taking notes. "And what happened 'recently'?"

He dropped his arms to his sides, flexing his hand to rid it of spasm. "Look I don't understand what this is all about—"

"Just answer the question," the officer warned, eyeing him critically.

He took a deep breath and continued. "I discovered he'd embezzled money from my store accounts, and I confronted him about it."

"When was this, and how much money are we talking about?"

"Yesterday afternoon at the store—roughly $5000."

"Interesting," he stated, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around at the others. "Any chance we can speak in private?"

He pursed his lips. "I have no secrets from my family."

He nodded cynically. "You say he's been embezzling money from you… how long?"

Doug glanced at Bobby. "To the best of my knowledge, for 12 months."

"And is there a reason you didn't report this to the police?"

He stared at them in disbelief, wondering why they were here. "I just discovered the pattern in my books yesterday. He denied it at first, but agreed to return it in 24 hours."

"What time was that agreement made?"

"Yesterday, about 2:30 p.m. Look Detective, I believe it's my right to be informed as to the reason—"

"And did you meet with him today, after the 24 hours?"

"No…no, I didn't—he usually doesn't work until 4 and—"

"It's a religious holiday for us," Ceil interrupted, causing both of the men to stare at her with blank expressions. "Jewish New Year," she emphasized, carrying Catherine over to Doug and giving her to him. He took her in his arms, eyeing them expectantly.

"Shhh, sweetheart," he coaxed as she began to fuss.

The detective hid a guilty look when he saw Catherine, but cleared his throat. "Mr. Hegstrom has pressed charges against you for assault and battery—that's why we're here."

"Assault and battery?" he cried in disbelief. "All I did was hold him against the wall, maybe twist his arm behind his back—but he was denying the whole thing!"

"And in your mind violence was indicated—"

"No but I was upset and I felt betrayed, not to mention angry that he'd been stealing from me!"

"Was he your bookkeeper, and do you have proof?"

"As assistant manager he did have access to the books, in my absence."

The detective studied him cynically. "So you were out of the store for 12 months."

"No!" Doug insisted, handing Catherine to Brenda since he was upsetting her. "As I said I just discovered the tampering in the accounts—"

"Then you don't regularly check your accounts—"

"Detective, is my son being charged at this time? If so, he needs to be told," Abe stated.

He sighed heavily and got up. "No formal charges will be filed until we've investigated the matter first," he replied, glancing at Doug. "Mr. Hegstrom insists that you caused injury to his left shoulder and arm, and states that you threatened him."

"That's ridiculous!" he shot back. "_I _should be the one filing charges against him for grand larceny!"

"His statement indicates you were threatening and that there are no grounds for your accusations."

"Oh no? I have my books here if you want them entered into evidence," he replied, feeling his father's hand on his arm.

"Don't offer them unless you're represented," he warned quietly, meeting the detective's gaze. "We'll be contacting our lawyer."

"Good idea, if you are serious about the embezzlement charges," he answered.

"I am," Doug agreed, pushing back his hair. "I gave Tim the chance to return the money without involving the police, and this is the thanks I get for it."

"According to Mr. Hegstrom he has been a faithful and trustworthy employee, managing your store during your prolonged absence. Is there anything you'd like to say regarding your absence?"

Doug bit back a retort, trying to calm down. He glanced at Brenda, then Bobby. "I've been recovering from surgery over the past eight weeks."

Both men eyed his hand suspiciously. "And were you out of state at the time?"

"Yes—while on vacation; we also suffered a family tragedy—"

"You lost your wife?"

He nodded. "My in-laws as well."

"Our condolences, then," he stated a bit gruffly. "We'll need to know the details about that…I'd like you to come downtown with us to get a statement; if you wish to file charges regarding the $5000 you can do it there."

"You're taking me in?" he said incredulously, eyeing Catherine, who was reaching for him. "But my daughter is too young to be left—"

"Maybe one of you folks could take care of the baby while we're gone?" he hinted, taking Doug's arm.

He shook it off. "You're dragging me from my family and home based on the lies of one man?"

"Don't get excited, Mr. Bukowski," the officer suggested, "it's just for questioning."

They came up on both sides, effectively escorting him out while the detective thanked his father for the hospitality. Abe followed closely behind, stopping the detective as the officer continued on with Doug.

"Detective, you might want to contact the sheriff's department near Fort Mann, New Mexico—they'll supply you with information regarding my son's injuries and our losses. The crimes committed against the family would, I hope, give him more credence."

He nodded soberly. "For the record I have a feeling about Hegstrom, but you understand we have to check things out thoroughly."

"I do, but given my son's circumstances I'm asking for a little leniency," he said quietly. "He's been through a lot—all of us have. And you are taking him to the station on a religious holiday…"

He eyed him closely. "I'll try to go easy on him…goodnight sir."

_**Brenda stared after them in shock, watching as the policemen escorted Doug out the door.**_She felt Ceil's hand clasp her arm at the same time Doug turned to glance back over his shoulder. His eyes were dark in the fading twilight, but they spoke volumes to her.

_I'm sorry…this is all a misunderstanding! Please take care of Catherine until I get back? She needs you...I need you too…don't worry about me…_

"Well happy new year," Abe's voice droned quietly as they watched the officer plant a hand on top of Doug's head before he bent to climb into the cruiser. "At least they didn't cuff him."

"For what?" Bobby hissed, pounding the door with his fist. "They're so stupid! We have the proof—I helped Doug find the evidence!"

"We know, Bobby," Abe reassured him. "I'm calling a lawyer as soon as they leave—a good one."

"Dear God, hasn't he suffered enough?" Ceil worried. "How long can they keep him for questioning?"

Abe sighed, watching the officer climb into the driver's seat. "Could be all night for all we know … he never took the aspirin either."

Brenda met Doug's gaze across the distance as he stared out the window of the cruiser. A grimace of pain crossed his expression before he bowed his head and pressed a hand to his forehead. They drove off as her eyes filled with tears.

"He's so exhausted, and he certainly doesn't need this," she worried

"I should call that Tim and give him a piece of my mind," Abe added.

"He'll hold it together," Ceil decided, nodding her head. "He's made it this far."

Catherine cried softly, her voice hoarse as Brenda kissed her cheek and drew her closer. "Don't worry Katie, Daddy will be back. We'll pray for him, won't we?"

"Amen," Ceil said; "the government clearly has no concern for religion."

"I'm calling Charlie," Abe called as he headed into Doug's office. Brenda followed, glancing at the computer screen where the photo she'd chosen of Lynne shone.

"He didn't even get to see which one I chose," she said sadly, meeting his glance. He looked over at the photo and smiled.

"Good choice."

She nodded. "You really think he'll be ok?"

He finished dialing from a business card he's pulled from his wallet. "I hope so."

"I want to go down there and wait for him, but he wanted me to watch Catherine. Do you think he took his phone?"

He glanced toward the coat rack and saw that his jacket was missing. "If it was in his coat pocket you could try to reach him."

"I text him in case he's not be able to receive calls…let's hope he has the ringer off."

Reaching for her phone, she opened the keyboard. "I'll just tell him to let us know when he thinks he might be finished," she stated, looking up. "You don't think they'll arrest him, do you?"

"Charlie, this is Abe," he interrupted, holding up his hand. "Look I'm sorry to bother you on the holiday but it's urgent…it's about Doug—I need your help. Call my cell when you get this…thanks." Cutting off the call, he met her gaze. "If they do we'll just bail him out."

She shuddered and looked at her keyboard. Then she typed her message: _D - call me before you're done & and I'll come get you. Aunt C will watch the baby - luv, B_

_**Six hours later Doug pulled his cell phone from his pocket,**_ glancing around to be sure no one was watching him. Through the windows he saw people passing by, and working at their desks but no one assigned to his case. Flipping open the phone, he found Brenda's text message, scanned it and hit the reply button.

_B – think I'm almost done – pls come, thnx - luv D___

With his finger on the send button he looked up again, pressed it and glanced back down until the message flashed as sent. Shutting it, he slipped it back into his pocket and ran a hand through his hair and tried to relax. But soon he was tapping his foot with restless energy, feeling like he would scream if they didn't let him go soon. Praying that they wouldn't change their mind and book him he absorbed the iron of his predicament. The whole thing was ridiculous, and if he knew where Tim was he'd try to reason with him. He was somewhere in the building but off limits. How his former friend could have been so conniving was beyond his imagination.

They'd shown him the report from the hospital, which pretty much stated that the patient had a slight muscle strain and was dismissed with instructions to rest his arm, no sling, and take ibuprofen as needed. That was it—x-rays showed nothing and no bruising or lacerations were reported. In other words Tim was an actor who may have fooled the police, but not the hospital staff. He'd also seen a copy of the complaint filed against him, noting his unpredictable and dangerous behavior, but as the detective had already pointed out it actually made Tim look like he was making it all up.

Tim had given them his key to the store, where after a search had been made the police found a zip-lock bag filled with $3,282 inside the top drawer of Doug's desk. He told them he must have planted it there to make it look like he was lying, though the detective had smirked and said they already had determined that. What became of the rest of the money was a mystery, and Tim denied knowing anything about it. He was told that they were running checks on Tim's credit cards and phone records. He told himself it was only a matter of time before the truth came out. And he prayed that it would.

He thought of Brenda coming to wait for him, the only thing that gave him a sense of peace. Now, with Detective Basso coming toward him wearing a sullen expression, he steeled himself for the verdict. He opened the door, and Doug noted the papers he gripped in one hand. Officer Connors appeared from virtually nowhere to join them, closing the door and standing guard inside.

"Mr. Bukowski," Basso greeted him, heading for his desk and throwing the papers down. He eyed them expectantly, not liking their silence. But then Basso heaved a sigh and looked up.

"Looks like we owe you an apology," he said, nodding to Connors. "We've checked out your record, which is clean as a whistle; Hegstrom's is another story. There's a prior record of money laundering and petty cash theft."

He was stunned. "I never did a background check on him," he stated, shaking his head. "I just trusted him."

"It wouldn't have done you any good to run one," Connors interjected, "he's used previous aliases."

"Unbelievable," he breathed, looking from one to the other. "So, am I free to go?"

"You are indeed," Basso nodded, "though I did want to let you know we've reviewed the reports from the sheriff's department in New Mexico."

Doug waited, but he just stuffed the papers into his briefcase and came around the desk to extend his hand.

"I've got a pretty clear picture of what happened to you and your family," he sighed, gripping it. "We're sorry for your loss…I hope you'll accept our apologies for taking you away from your family on the holiday…we just wanted to check out both sides of the story."

Doug shook his hand and got up, patting his pocket as the phone vibrated. "I understand…now if you don't mind I'd like to go home."

"Fine with me," Basso said, walking him to the door, which Connors opened. "We should be able to bring in Hegstrom once we find him. It was a good idea to press charges."

"If he'd returned everything I might not have," he stated.

"He probably spent the rest of the money; better call your insurance company and report it. They'll see our report, once we file it. You're free to go."

"Thank you," he breathed, noting the directions they gave him on how to find to main lobby.

He headed for the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. At the stairwell door he pulled out his phone and quickly texted "Coming…"

By the time he'd made it down all four flights he saw a busy reception area, and across the distance spotted her. "Brenda," he called, lifting his arm and making his way toward her. She looked up and rose from the bench, obviously exhausted. But she rushed toward him and flung her arms around him.

He caught her and held her close as she sniffed. "Hey," he said gently, easing her back to look at her face.

"Thank God," she breathed, swiping away a tear. "You ok?"

"Yeah, except for the headache," he answered, nodding toward the door and taking her hand. "Thanks for coming…let's get out of here."

c. 2011 by Christine Levitt


	14. Chapter 14 The Birthday

_**Chapter 14 The Birthday**_

_**Bobby stared at the screen, his insides torn up when he looked at their family page.**_ Lynne looked so happy, smiling brightly in the picture he remembered Doug taking of her. It had been at her birthday party last May when she'd turned 24. His eyes were riveted to her radiant smile and he shuddered at the love in her eyes. _Love for Doug._

He was flooded with unexpected guilt for the way he'd treated his brother-in-law. Lynne had loved Doug, he realized—how much, well it was obvious. It was written in her eyes and her expression as she smiled at her photographer. She looked so young and so happy, posing for her husband. It dawned on him that they'd only been married a little over a year when Doug had taken the picture, if he remembered correctly. And now she was gone, from all their lives.

"Too young to die," he croaked, feeling a tangible pain in his heart. He missed his older sister, who teased him but not the way Brenda did. Lynne liked him, and not just as a brother. They'd had some good talks, he recalled with a sad smile.

"I miss you, sis," he whispered, staring at her image one more time. "I don't want to say goodbye," he added, jumping at the sound of footsteps on the porch. Clicking the X at the top of the screen, he hit the "delete history" line of the control panel and shot from the office, rushing into the kitchen and sliding back into place in front of his studies. He heard the front door close and steps in the foyer as he leaned over his workbook, pretending to be engrossed in his practice SAT.

"Bobby?" Doug's voice called from down the hall as the sound of his keys hit the bowl on the table just inside the door. "You home?"

"In the kitchen," he shouted, watching Beast finish stretching before rambling off to greet his favorite master.

"Hey boy!" he heard Doug laugh, "no—no, get down! I know—I know! Down boy—where're your manners?" he complained good-naturedly. Then he appeared at the door, Beast dancing around his legs.

"Hey," Bobby greeted him, again feeling a stab of guilt at resenting Doug's authority over him.

"What's up?" Doug asked, setting down a paper shopping bag onto the counter.

"Nothin," he sighed, turning back to pencil in an answer he knew was probably wrong. He caught a delicious aroma coming from across the room and turned in his seat. Meeting Doug's hesitant smile he studied the logo on the bag. "Chinese? Alright!" he yelled, bolting from the chair and sliding across the tiles toward him.

Doug turned a shoulder toward him in a blocking move. "We wait for your sister," he warned. "By the way where's the baby?"

"Brenda took her," he said, leaning against the counter while Doug began to unpack the white boxes. "Rice, rice—got any lo mein?"

"'Course we do," he drawled, holding up the double order of noodles. "I thought Brenda had a late class," he stated, holding the take-out out of reach. "We're waiting, ok?"

Bobby deflated against the counter again. "She got out early 'cos nobody had the book," he explained, watching him pull out a baking dish from the cabinet. "She took Katie in the stroller to pick up some stuff at the farmer's market…said she wouldn't be long."

"Your sister's a country girl at heart," he commented as he dumped the rice into the pan. "Lynne wouldn't have had the patience for that kind of thing," he added before looking up and meeting his gaze. He pursed his lips and directed his attention back to the pan. "Sorry," he said quietly.

"You're right, she wouldn't have," he agreed, judging Doug to be more upset by his own remark than he was.

"This should keep everything warm till they get back," he said soberly, going to the oven and turning it on low.

"She better not be long," Bobby added, stomach growling as he reached for a fortune cookie. "I'm starving."

Doug closed the oven door on the food and eyed the papers spread across the table. "You studying for SATs?"

"Yeah," he sighed tiredly, biting into a cookie and glancing at his fortune. "…boring..."

Doug went to wash his hands at the skink. "We can start right after dinner, if you still want my help."

He swallowed the dry cookie. "Are you kidding? I can't do it by myself!"

"But we've got to finish by 8:30," he warned, concentrating on his injured hand as he washed it. "I've got my own work cut out for me."

Bobby watched him reach for the towel and dry his hands. "Still plugging away at the master's…why do you bother, man?"

"Try not wanting to spend my golden years working in retail," he breathed, hanging the towel back.

"You're old, but not enough for retirement," he teased, splitting another fortune cookie.

Doug smirked. "Thanks, I think."

"So what _do_ you want to be when you grow up?" he asked distractedly, eyeing the printed fortune.

"Teach, of course," he stated, bending to dish out Beast's food as he barked excitedly. "That way I won't have to work every weekend and Catherine can hopefully get free tuition."

Bobby filled a glass with water for the dog's bowl. "Now that's a long way off," he stated, going to add the water for Beast. "Though I must admit I have trouble picturing you in tweed jackets and ties."

Doug planted his hands on his hips and watched the dog gulp down his food. He eyed the clock with a frown. "Where are they? It's already 6…"

"Don't worry—they close it down by 6…so you think you have the patience to teach?"

He shrugged. "I'm as patient as the next man, why?"

Bobby glanced meaningfully toward the clock. "Oh I don't know…and sometimes your temper runs a little wild."

He grinned before turning toward the dish cupboard. "Look who's talking…"

Meandering back to the table, he piled his workbooks and papers onto the shelf. Beast lapped noisily at his water as the bolt of the back door clicked open. They both glanced toward it expectantly.

"We're home," Brenda called out as she opened the door and entered, Catherine on one arm, a shopping bag on the other. She smiled at Doug first, then him. "We found some good bargains!"

"My two favorite girls," Doug greeted them, coming over to take the baby. He lifted her high overhead, then dipped her for a quick kiss. She giggled with delight and jabbered something to him as he settled her against his chest. Bobby watched her grab the edge of his collar and twist it into one little fist.

Brenda eyed him with puzzled shock, then glanced at Doug's frown. "Something smells wonderful," she breathed, pulling off her coat sweater.

"And somebody needs a diaper change," Doug teased Catherine, making a face at her.

"Dat-dah!" she crooned, reaching for his glasses.

"Finally we get to eat," Bobby complained, moving to collect the dishes Doug had left.

He watched covertly as Brenda reached up and disengaged Catherine's fingers from the glasses, laughing softly as he struggled to keep her from grabbing them back. He couldn't help resenting the closeness which had seemed to develop between them, feeling left out and not so sure he liked what he saw. The voice of reason inside his head told him it was only because of their situation, both caring for Catherine's needs. And he had to admit Doug seemed to keep his distance, though he could sense how much he missed Lynnie. There were flashes of pain in his eyes that hurt even for him to look at. But when they were all together he hid his feelings pretty well.

Not, it was Brenda who'd changed the most, he decided. She seemed to have gotten all shy and quiet ever since the attack, and he knew it was because of what had happened to her. She had changed more than any of them, even Doug, at least outwardly.

"I'll change her," he heard her offer but Doug wouldn't have it.

"You just walked in the door, it's fine," he reassured her as he headed across the kitchen. "I picked up take-out again so none of us would have to cook."

"Well, I'm thankful," she stated, coming over to hug him as much as he allowed. "Hi baby brother," she said gently, smiling at his look of disgust for the affectionate gesture. "How's the test anxiety?"

"Don't call me that!" he warned, watching Doug go to the refrigerator and take out a bottle of formula.

"If I'd known you were picking up Chinese I wouldn't have gone out for salad veggies," she teased Doug, watching the baby pound his shoulder as he set aside the bottle.

"We don't mind salad too," he answered with a smirk, "but the general idea is no cooking tonight."

She nodded, watching as he strolled out and headed upstairs to change the baby.

Bobby carried the plates to the table and motioned for her to get the silverware.

She saluted and glanced up to be sure Doug had left. "He helping you tonight?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah just till 8:30 though," he sighed, setting out the dishes. "After that he's back to his thesis again."

She nodded. "Then I guess I'll play with Katie while you _both _study."

He looked up with a sarcastic grin. "What, no homework in your senior year of college?"

"Not yet—it's still too early in the year so for now I'm free!"

He watched her go to the freezer and take out a tray of ice, then run the water for their drinks. Glancing toward the stairs, he moved to her side. "Said he wants to teach," he complained to her hearing alone. "Can you picture that?"

She glanced over one shoulder. "Actually I can…what's the problem?"

"Nothing…I just like helping him out at the store…what about you? Are you still going abroad after graduation?"

She tensed a bit but continued filling the glasses. "No…I think I'll stay around and help out."

Bobby felt the old resentment fire up again. "Why, when you have your own life to live?"

She reached over the shut off the water and picked up three glasses, carrying them toward the table. "Things have changed," she sighed, setting them down and going to the oven to turn it off.

"Yeah I know, but we'll get over the shock if we keep moving," he reasoned with her. "And you don't owe Doug anything, you know."

She frowned as she pulled out the pan and set aside the hot mitts. "You know, you don't have to criticize everything about him, and no I don't owe him—I want to be around for him and Katie. I don't see why you have a problem with that."

"I don't, it's just that you used to be so different."

She stiffened but turned to peel off the foil, hearing Katie's shrill laughter from upstairs. She smiled. "He's tickling her again."

"I liked you better before!" he finally spat, crossing his arms. "That's my problem!"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I seem to remember us fighting constantly."

He sniffed involuntarily at the mouth-watering blend of Chinese food steam rising from the pan, which she lifted with mitt-protected hands. "Yeah, so what's abnormal about that?"

She laughed good-naturedly and shoved two serving spoons into the pan, folding up the foil. "Just listen to yourself," she teased, moving back to the counter. "A roving contradiction is what you are."

"All set for the night," Doug announced as he came in, carrying a happy-looking daughter in a new pink outfit. He gently placed her in the high chair, glancing up at both of them. "What?"

"Nothing," she said sweetly, heading back to the table and sliding into her place. "We're just fighting again."

He smiled and handed Katie her bottle, which she gripped eagerly with both hands. "Oh, that all?"

"Brothers and sisters fight," Bobby declared, seating himself next to her and picking up a plate. "It's the most natural thing in the world."

"Ah, I see," he breathed, turning to collect a few jars of baby food, which he carried to the table. "What about?"

Brenda glanced at him, hiding a smile. "He was actually complaining that we don't fight enough."

"That's not what I meant!" he protested, distracted by the mounds of food on his plate. Picking up his fork, he nodded to Katie. "I pity you, child, being deprived of this feast!" Then he shoved a forkful of lo mein into his mouth and closed his eyes in delight.

"Sweetheart wait," Doug urged, gently prying the bottle from Catherine's mouth. "Food first, before you fill up on milk."

Brenda watched him sit down and begin to open a jar of carrots. "That stuff is actually pretty good," she admitted before stabbing a piece of chicken with her fork. "I had to pretend to share it to get her to eat last night."

He nodded, pouring some onto her plastic dish. "It's not bad if you aren't into chewing," he muttered, uncapping a mixture of rice and turkey.

She giggled and swallowed her biteful, watching him begin to feed it to his daughter. She gripped his hand and pulled it in, surprising her. "She doesn't give you a hard time," she said with a touch of wonder in her voice.

He smirked. "I don't spoil her," he said, glancing at her over his glasses. "Not that you do, I'm just—"

"I know," she said, nodding and continuing to eat. "Try some, Doug—it's amazing."

He glanced toward the pan. "Actually, can I have a spoonful of each, Bobby?"

"Sure," he answered, putting down his fork and picking up the empty plate. "No problem," he added, spooning tiny helpings onto the plate for him and sliding it before him. "There you go…"

Brenda rolled her eyes and looked down at her food while he stared at Bobby a moment. "Thank you," he said formally, picking up his own fork.

"Eeeeei!" Katie screamed, startling them all. Doug forked a good part of the chicken into his mouth before turning back to her. He said nothing more, missing the jab Brenda gave Bobby in his side. He ignored her, hugging his side and reaching for another helping.

"This is great, man," he declared with a smirk, "thanks for picking this all up."

Doug glanced at Brenda, who shook her head in disgust. "You're welcome," he stated, concentrating on Katie's meal instead of his own. "Daddy missed you today," he told her, leaning an arm on the edge of her high chair. She accepted the spoonful of rice he offered her, reaching up to grab his chin as she ate.

"You know, you should get one of those slings to wear her in front of you," Bobby stated, waving his fork at Doug. "You know, the ones you can breastfeed from…"

Doug looked up, his expression blank. "Funny," he stated, smirking sarcastically at him. "Very funny."

"Ignore him," she advised Doug. "I caught him in the playpen with her the other day," she said conspiratorially. "And I think he likes Thomas the Tank Engine more than she does."

"I'm still a minor, technically," he objected, dodging the kitchen towel Doug whipped at him. "Hey! What I'm saying is you've got no excuse!" he stated, grabbing for the towel and missing it.

"I have the best excuse, being the Dad!" Doug defended, whipping it at him again. Bobby caught it and snapped it back at him.

"No fighting boys," Brenda sighed, winking at Katie, who was clapping and mashing some of the carrots between her fingers before Doug reached up and gently wiped the extra off her cheeks. She reached for her bottle and said "bah-tee."

He took another bite of lo mein and handed her the bottle, taking a break to eat himself. Brenda nodded and eyed them both. "Anyone check the site today?"

"Not yet," Bobby lied, not wanting them to know he checked it often during the day. He'd read every comment in secret, when no one else was home but Catherine and him.

"The family in New York wants to get together," Doug stated, finishing off his small helpings. "I'm not so sure it's a good idea."

"Why not?" she wanted to know, watching him take another serving of the chicken. "You've been in touch with them by e-mail all this time."

"It's not them," he said quietly, avoiding her gaze. "It's just…too soon."

Bobby burped loudly and picked up his water. "A hundred years from now is too soon," he agreed. "We didn't put up the site to have reunions, especially not long distance ones."

"But why not meet?" she suggested. "We don't have many friends—it might help us crawl back into society a little."

"I have my best bud, and you have your old friends at school," Bobby disagreed, "and Nick of course."

She rolled her eyes at the mention of her ex, which he found troubling. "You know he's gonna keep calling you, Bren—just put him out of his misery and go out like you used to."

"I don't want to go out with him," she answered, eyeing Doug who stood at the counter, his back to them. His shoulders stiffened a bit, but said nothing and didn't turn around.

"You guys were great together," Bobby insisted. "Why not give him another chance, Bren?"

"I gave him a chance," she warned, leaning back against the upholstery. "He blew it. Besides, I've changed."

"I don't get it—didn't you just say we needed to 'crawl back into society'?"

"That depends on which society," she stated, eyeing Doug as he turned around and came back to Catherine's side. "You can jump in anytime here, you know."

He looked up. "You talking to me?"

She stared at him a minute, then relaxed a bit. "Very smart—staying out of brother-sister conflicts."

He shrugged. "Just tryin' to keep the peace."

They thought he didn't notice, but he saw their eyes meet. He cringed inwardly, about to tell Doug to go home to his own house. But then he remembered he needed his help. What would Nick think, to see them look at each other so trustingly?

_**Brenda lifted a hand toward the car, waving so that Doug would spot her in the crowd.**_ The sun was already setting even though it was only 5:15, but then again it was her birthday and mid- October. He must have seen them, for his car turned into a space and he flashed the lights. She smiled in relief and hurried her steps. "Let's go."

"That isn't your brother in that car," Alexis teased, eyeing the old Volvo as they headed toward the parking lot.

Brenda turned to make a face at her new friend. "No, it's my brother-_in-law_; Bobby took our Mom's care to pick up Katie earlier."

"Oh, and I was looking forward to teasing him on the ride home! There goes all my fun!" she joked.

"You're right—I wouldn't try teasing Doug," she warned, "he's too clever to miss your innuendos."

"Oh really?" Alex purred as they approached the car. Her steps slowed as the door opened and Doug climbed out of the car, lifting his eyes toward them with a smile. "Ah…maybe I should take the bus."

"That's ridiculous," Brenda hissed, taking her arm. "I already asked him if it's ok and he doesn't mind dropping you off—hi," she called out, stopping a few feet from the door he'd opened for them. "Doug—this is Alexis, my friend from Studio Art."

He nodded, extending his hand. She saw Alexis glance down toward his left hand, which he kept tucked against the side of his coat. "Good to meet you, Alexis—ready to go?"

"Are we ever," Brenda sighed, moving around to the passenger side, towing her along. "We can sit in the front, Doug, if that's ok?"

"Sure," he said, shutting the door. "That's fine, if there's room."

Brenda was already climbing in, nodding to her friend as he bent down himself. Alexis slid in next to Brenda, struggling with the seat belt. "Can I put my backpack in the back?" she wanted to know.

"Go right ahead," he assured her, closing his door and fastening his seat belt.

"See, there's plenty of room up here," Brenda insisted as she leaned into his shoulder to fasten her own belt. "How's Katie been today?"

He turned the key in the ignition and flipped on the heater. "A little fussy with that new tooth coming in, but she'll be fine...Alexis, what street do you live on?"

"Leonard Ave," she answered, meeting Brenda's smile with a somewhat dazed expression. "Really, I don't want to be a bother."

"You're no bother!" Brenda insisted, stretching her feet toward the heater. "My feet have been freezing all day—this is great!"

He nodded, pulling out into the departing queue of cars. "They're expecting a frost tonight," he said distractedly.

"No, not this early!" she sighed, shaking her head. "How was Bobby when he picked up Katie?"

He pursed his lips. "In panic mode—maybe you can work with him on the composition section tonight, if you're not too swamped."

"I'll try, but he'll do fine," she stated, glancing at Alexis. "Math nerds," she sighed.

"Hey, watch your language," Doug teased, speeding up as the traffic thinned.

"Oh—I forgot!" she laughed, covering her mouth and glancing back at her friend. "Doug's a computer engineer so I guess math nerd comes too close for comfort."

"I like nerds," Alexis smiled, eyeing Doug. "You know, some of my best friends…"

He glanced at her with a smirk. "Spoken like a true artist," he answered dourly before falling silent.

Brenda and Alex chatted the rest of the way, and soon they were dropping Alexis off. She leaned down to thank Doug again for the ride, then waved and hurried off toward the well-lit house.

Doug pulled back onto the street and headed for her house. "She seems genuine," he smirked.

"She is, and she likes you," she said breathlessly, moving away but sitting half turned toward him.

"Really, even though I'm technically a nerd," he huffed.

"Especially because of that," she chuckled, pulling off her scarf. "Your heater actually works, unlike Mom's."

"It doesn't work?" he exclaimed, shaking his head. "Guess I'll have to check it out."

"It better not snow for my birthday," she complained, "like it did three years ago."

"Snow, in October? You're kidding."

"No, I'm not—that's the trouble with having a birthday this late in the year…no beach parties for me."

He glanced at her skeptically. "Why not? The beach is a great place for a bonfire off season."

She started at him, momentarily in shock. "You know that's not a bad idea…but I like your plan of us all going out to dinner and a movie. It's much less work."

"Lynne always liked doing that..."

"Yeah we share an unhealthy love of movies," she sighed, feeling no particular pain at the mention of her sister. Glancing over at him, she noted the strain in his expression but pretended not to notice. "I really want to see that new sci fi movie, even though it premieres at 9:30."

"Ceil said she'd watch the baby," he reassured her. "…I kind of want to see it myself, just for the 3D."

"Well good, then," she sighed, leaning her head back. After a moment she turned it and studied his profile. "I'm glad your dad and aunt are coming in for my birthday. It makes it seem more like a family celebration."

He glanced her way as he drove. "They won't be able to come as often, once the bad weather sets in. This will be the last hurrah for them, I think."

"At least until Catherine's birthday," she said, regretting it the minute she'd said so. His lips tightened but he said nothing. She could feel his pain at the thought of Katie turning 1 without her mother. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean—"

"Stop apologizing," he ordered gently, his eyes on the road. "It's ok, Brenda…"

"It's not ok that it still hurts you so much," she dared to say. Sitting up straighter, she directed her attention ahead as they drove, hating his silence. For once she just wished he'd talk about what he was feeling.

"I said it's ok."

"You can't fool me!" she cried, her voice breaking. "I feel it too—"

"You have no idea what I'm feeling!" he warned quietly, a nerve in his cheek jumping.

"No of course I don't because you never _say_ anything!" she shot back.

"What am I supposed to say, huh?" he demanded, turning to glance at her. "I miss the other half of me that died, is that what you want to hear?"

She shuddered, hugging herself. "Yes, I want to hear the truth, not 'I'm fine' or 'it's ok'!'

"You want the truth? The truth is I wish I'd been the one to die instead of her!"

"No…how can you say that?"

"The truth is she should be the one raising Catherine, not me! She should have lived and been there for you and Bobby, not me!"

"You don't have the right to even think that way!" she argued back. "It's not something you can change or play like the lottery, is it? I'm proud of my sister defending me and Catherine—she was proud and strong and yes she deserved to live but it isn't under our control!"

"God—," he croaked, reaching up to grip his temple, "I wish I'd never started this conversation."

"Well I'm glad we did—you think you're the only one suffering? What about Bobby? He can't even cry yet, and spends most of his time sleeping just because he can't deal with being awake! Or maybe you could put yourself in my shoes, be a rape victim and face a cold lonely future of being afraid of everyone of the opposite sex except your brother and brother-in-law!"

He shuddered and shook his head, glancing at the tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry…you're right."

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. "I'm almost 22 and doomed to be a spinster the rest of my life."

"How about picturing the abrupt end of a happy marriage and then being alone the rest of your life," he stated, shaking his head. "Maybe it's better not to have loved and lost, as the saying goes."

She stared at him, leaning close. "How can you say that? At least you had something good in your life _before _instead of having no good memories at all."

He glanced back at her. "What are you talking about? You had a lot of fun with your friends and Nick—

"Before he cheated on me," she reminded him with a sigh of frustration. "And I only thought I was happy, when I was really deceived."

After a moment he glanced back at her. "What do you mean, deceived?"

She gestured toward the park. "Can you pull over a minute? Please?"

He studied her a moment, then complied. They pulled into the quiet lane the divided the park from the cemetery, and he cut the engine. For a few moments they just looked out into the twilight.

"Well go ahead," he sighed, rubbing his temple. "Out with it, Brenda."

She picked up her backpack and hugged it close. "I'm forcing you to talk," she said, shaking her head. "It's your choice."

"Oh like the subject we're on is something I want to address?" he laughed cynically, leaning his head back. "You want the truth? The whole truth and nothing but the truth? Well I gave it to you. You can't convince me that I shouldn't have died instead, so maybe Catherine could have her mother with her for her first birthday!"

"She has you, and she has us, Doug!"

He shook his head, avoiding her eyes. "It's not the same without Lynne…nothing is."

"Then we have to try to manage the change the best way we can."

He pulled off his glasses and closed his eyes. "I don't know how, Brenda…she probably doesn't even remember Lynne…I know I'm having trouble with the details myself, after only a few months."

"That's what her scrapbooks are for, and the photos, and the celebrations we'll have while we remember her," she said gently.

He raised a hand to his head and choked back a shudder. "It's not the same…it'll never be the same."

She bit her lower lip and tentatively reached out, touching his arm. When he didn't shake off her hand, she squeezed it. He turned his head away and breathed out a ragged sigh.

"I can't go there," he admitted, "I have to avoid going there because of the pain."

Studying him a moment, she unfastened her seat belt and slid toward him. Taking his hand, she held it between hers, squeezing tight. "What can I do, Doug? Bobby won't let me touch him at all, and you barely let me near you."

He turned his hand in hers and after a moment laced his fingers through hers. His head turned on the head rest and he studied her in the dim light. "You know I can see her in you," he choked, pursing his lips and lowering his gaze to their hands.

She squeezed harder, the rested her head on his shoulder. After some time she felt his cheek press into the side of her forehead. He breathed out another ragged sigh and she pulled her hand from his, winding it behind his back. He croaked an apology and gripped her close, and then she was leaning her head on his chest and holding him, maneuvering her backpack away until it fell on the floor.

Tears slid from her eyes as she held him, and his warmth seeped into her. He dropped his head back, struggling with his grief as he held her close. She only hoped her presence might somehow comfort him, at least on the human level.

The car grew colder until he reached over and turned the key. The heater went on but he gathered her close again. She sighed deeply and looked up at him. He glanced down, meeting her gaze. After he swallowed with some difficulty, he gently disengaged himself as she moved back to her side of the seat. They both fastened their belts and he nodded, looking her in the eye.

"You have no idea how much that helped," he admitted softly, glancing away. "Just to have someone touch my hand is…"

"I know," she nodded, running a hand through her hair. "It helps me a lot too."

He shook his head. "You never see it coming, the grief…it's like waves that hit when you least expect."

"Well…we should get back. Bobby will be worrying and Katie will want her Dad."

"Yeah," he breathed, forcing a smile before glancing out around them. "Better go before the cops shine a flashlight on us and give us a ticket."

She laughed, thankful for his sense of humor. "Actually, do they still do that—prowl the lovers' lanes?"

He chuckled and shifted into drive. "You're asking the wrong person…"

_**They shared a quick dinner before she brought her pack up to her room. **_Her phone vibrated and she pulled it out from the pocket of her pack, surprised that Alex hadn't texted her by now. Although it would have interrupted a very important moment with Doug…she could still feel its impact and wondered if she'd been out of line with him. Since they came back he'd been unusually quiet and serious, taking Catherine up for a bath earlier than usual and spending much more time putting her to bed. After that she'd not seen him. Yet he'd said more to her than before, making her understand what he was going through. For that she was grateful.

She texted Alexis to tell her that she was going to help Bobby with his SAT prep, surprised when she got an almost immediate reply.

_OMG your brother-in-law!_

She stared at the message, puzzled by the text when they had usually called and talked easily. Maybe Alexis was busy too, hence the message. And she wondered if her friend had jumped to the wrong conclusion about Doug.

_What? _she texted back, sitting down at her desk to get out her old SAT notes from the bottom drawer.

_He's gorgeous—why didn't u warn me? _Alexis answered. Brenda felt herself blush, admitting to herself that Doug was really attractive. If she thought about it objectively, from her friend's viewpoint.

_So you liked him? He's really nice, and he's helped me a lot with my own issues—_

_OMG Those EYES! So dark and intense._

She shook her head, punching the letters to reply. _They're blue, not dark!_

_And those lips—he's really sexy…maybe I shouldn't talk to you about this?_

Brenda laughed softly, texting her back. _I'll let you know when he's ready to date…_

The message came right back: _ok but my point is he's in2 you!_

"Come on!" she whispered, shaking her head and answering back. Downstairs Bobby called her name. _Is not—he's just missing my sister & I look like her! Get a grip A!_

_Don't think so…I kno these things...anyway he's a lot cuter than that Nick person._

Brenda looked up with a sigh. "Why does everybody treat me like I'm still with Nick?" she whispered, feeling her phone vibrate again.

_U said he's not 30 yet…someone's gonna grab him before he's ready to date—who better than u, girl?_

She held her phone in her hands, hearing Bobby calling her again. There was no reply she could think of besides _Bobby's calling, got 2 go! Tlk 2 u ltr_

Getting up, she stuck her head out the door and yelled down. "I'm coming! Give me a second!"

_**Doug rubbed his eyes and leaned back, **_deciding he'd had enough of the site for a night. He shut it down, noting the time to be pretty late. Brenda still wasn't back from her last minute get together that her friends had surprised her with. They'd just come out of the movie when she got the call, and he'd thought she would refuse to go. They'd celebrated her birthday with his father and aunt, having dinner out and a movie after his father and Ceil had taken Catherine home.

Stretching, he got up and told himself not to worry. He'd already shot a quick prayer up to heaven for her safety and decided to leave it at that. Worrying so much would morph him into an old man at 29 if he kept at it, that much he already knew.

"Murphy's Law is a lie," he sighed aloud, putting his glasses back on and flexing his left hand. It felt empty without his wedding ring on, but both his orthopedic surgeon and his counselor had insisted he leave it off for the proper healing of not only finger, but mind and soul. "She's fine," he told himself, heading to the kitchen to take a sleeping pill. "Bobby's fine…Catherine's fine…"

_And I'm fine…_he thought, stopping on his way to the kitchen by the small guest bathroom in the h all. He took a deep breath and glanced in there, remembering his former vision of Lynne appearing before his eyes.

"Sure I'm fine," he breathed, realizing that it had been weeks since that last vision. Although he'd admitted it begrudgingly, the shrink had considered it a good sign. Fading visions and auditory echoes were fine as a temporary means of coping with his wife's loss, he'd said, and their ending translated into his growing acceptance of widower status.

"The grief has entered its final stages," he whispered to the mirror, "indicating the healing process is continuing." Of course it would take time, and he had many adjustments to make but all indications were on track, if not somewhat delayed. According to the textbook cases, his delay in accepting Lynne's death had been complicated by the traumatic nature of her death as well as his own mental and physical trauma from the attack.

"A textbook case," he sighed, moving down the hall and entering the silent kitchen. He tried to remember all the times he'd come in here, finding her sitting at the breakfast nook piecing together her scrapbook pages late at night.

"A real night owl," he whispered fondly, his eyes watering with the raw grief he usually hid from everyone, with the exception of Brenda. That night in the car he'd told her more than even his counselor or shrink, and only because she had pulled it out of him. She was too perceptive, which is why he'd pretty much avoided her ever since. At least to the point of not being alone with her.

Moving to the sink, he drew off a glass of water and reconsidered the sleeping pills. "Don't want to get addicted," he sighed, drinking half the glass and setting it aside. He turned and leaned back against the counter, glancing toward the empty nook where Lynne had sat many a night.

"I wish I could have said goodbye," he sighed tiredly, "when you could have heard me."

He stared at her seat, trying to remember the details of her face without the help of photographs. They only made him more upset, but he had to admit the details were fading each day, as was the memory of her voice. The only thing that refused to fade was his yawning desire for intimacy with her, which no one had prepared him for. But how could he bring that up to anyone? He wasn't brave enough to breach the subject of unsatisfied desire that tortured him more often than he expected. HE and Lynne had enjoyed a fairly healthy sex life, but now he was left with aching need on top of an intense loneliness.

He wasn't sleeping well, though the nightmares had faded as well. Now he found himself awaking at different times, more frequently in the pre-dawn hours, tortured with the need for release only a wife could offer. His mind and soul might be progressing along the grief curve, but his body was definitely not. It demanded things he couldn't supply, and had to push himself into exhaustion just to find some amount of peace. Which didn't always help.

"You should marry again," his counselor had advised. So had his aunt and his father, who just the other night had informed him that he'd begun to date within six months of losing his mother. And he'd certainly not wanted to hear that about his own father. In his own thinking, it was an insult to his mother.

_Could I remain single for the rest of my life, like Dad? _he wondered, plowing his hand through his hair to push it back off his forehead. _But what about Catherine? She'd be without a mother… _The thought of that made him cringe.

The phone rang, jarring him with its sound. He stared at it, shocked that anyone would be calling at this hour. Then he remembered Brenda…

"Hello," he breathed into the mouthpiece, eyeing the clock. _1:45 a.m._ Thankfully Catherine did not stir as per the baby monitor, and he knew it would not awaken Bobby while he slept upstairs.

"Bobby!" a shaky voice shook him as he recognized it.

"No, it's Doug," he corrected, trying to hide his alarm. "Where are you?"

"Doug…can you please come get me? I ne—I need you!" she half choked, half whispered.

"What's wrong? Where are you?" he demanded in a hushed voice, his heart racing. "Tell me where you are."

"On th—on the beach, by the benches, we met Hank…please hurry, Doug."

"I'm leaving now," he reassured her. "Call my cell, Brenda—stay with me, I'll be there as fast as I can," he said, running up the stairs toward Bobby's room.

"Oh…ok—"

"Bobby—wake up!" he urged, shaking his arm until he stirred.

"Wha?" he moaned, glancing up at him drowsily.

"I have to pick up your sister—listen for the baby," he ordered, planting the monitor on his night stand. "You're in charge of Catherine."

"Okaa.." he swallowed, rubbing his eyes. "I will."

Already out the door, he ran down the stairs, reached for his jacket and left the house. His hand shook as he shoved the key into the lock and opened the door. Climbing in, he started the car, glancing down at his cell phone and pushing the speed dial for Brenda's cell.

"Brenda!" he cried as it connected. Backing out of the driveway, he then shifted into drive. "Are you there? It's me, Doug—"

"Doug—please come…so cold…"

"I'm on my way—give me 15 minutes, Brenda—are you alone?"

"Alex—she's with me—

"Good—can I talk to her a minute, please?

"Sur…

He waited the longest time, then heard her friend's voice. "Look Doug—don't worry, just get here as soon as you can, ok? I'm with her…"

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you later, but if you see that Nick character run him over, will you?"

"Nick—what did he do to her?" he demanded, his heart pounding.

"It's not that… more like what she did to him."

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt_


	15. Chapter 15 Transitions

_**Chapter 15 Transitions **_

_**From a distance he could see the bonfire on the beach, **_a group of people gathered around it. There were about six of them, he judged, with a smaller group of three huddled together opposite them. Slamming on the brakes, he held the wheel as the car fishtailed and came to an abrupt halt. Pulling out his keys he shoved open the door, climbing out and leaving the lights on to help him see. He hurried across the sand with a pounding heart, his eyes searching the darkened shapes moving around the light.

_Dear God, help us _he thought more than prayed as one of the three shot to their feet and started running toward him. As they approached each other he saw that it wasn't Brenda.

"Alexis?" he cried, seeing her stricken expression as she rushed up and grabbed his arm.

"Thank God you've come," she panted, half running at his side to keep up with him. She pointed toward the smaller group. "She's over there with Missy—I don't even know what happened and she won't talk about it! She's just staring at the others with an expression I've never seen before."

"What others?" he demanded, keeping his voice low as the others watched them suspiciously.

"Nick's gang, plus some we thought were her friends," she answered as they came closer to the two small figures huddled together. Suddenly they got up and ran to meet him, then Brenda was plowing into his arms, nearly knocking him off balance. He caught her as she clung to him like a drowning victim, her body trembling as she buried her face against his chest.

"Take me home," she croaked, her teeth chattering. Alex clutched the back of his coat as the other girl gripped his arm and rested a comforting hand on Brenda's back.

"I'm Missy," she said, looking up at Doug with a wince in her smile. "I had no idea this would happen—"

"What happened?" he demanded just as he sensed the others coming toward them.

"Well well well, if it isn't the posse!" someone cried out, surprising them all. Another form approached them from the area of the dunes, and as he came closer Doug recognized him as Nick. By now his friends had come closer and crowded behind him, their faces threatening. "A one-man posse at that!"

"Go back to where you came from, Nick," Missy growled, moving closer to Brenda.

He threw her a disgusted look and eyed Doug suspiciously as he tightened his arms around her. "Who's this Brenda—your _old man_?"

"Shut up!" she screeched, pulling away to surge toward him. Doug caught her arm and stepped closer. "You have no idea who you're talking to, and he's twice the man you'll ever be—you moron!"

"Easy," Doug said gently, staring at the blood running down the side of Nick's cheek. His clothing was coated with sand and blackened charcoal smears, and beneath his belligerent expression he looked wary. "Why don't I take you girl home?" he said to her.

"That's right, take _her_ home, lock her up and throw away the key!" Nick cried, staggering toward them. "She's a nut case—"

"Keep your distance!" he warned, shouting at them all as he gently guided Brenda toward her girlfriends. The others seemed taken aback by the authority in his voice and did not advance on them. Nick raised a fist and pointed at Brenda.

"Why don't you tell _her _that!" he cried in protest. "She's crazy, you know that mister? Everyone saw what she did to me—nearly bashed my brains out with a rock—"

His voice was drowned out by an angry protest of voices as Doug lifted his hand.

"Hold it!" he yelled, moving closer to Nick. "I've called the police," he warned, "so don't anybody be stupid. They should be arriving any minute, so back off!" he lied.

Brenda gripped his sleeve as Alex hugged her protectively, but it was Missy who came to Doug's side and pointed at him accusingly. "She was _fine_ until you took her off to have your little talk!" she accused. "I can just imagine what you did to set her off!"

"Shut up, bitch!" he yelled back in hatred.

"This is all your fault!" she retorted. "She said she didn't want you back—maybe now you'll believe her!"

"I said shut up!" one of Nick's friends shouted, fisting his hands. "You don't know what you're talking about—"

"I do too—I've know you both since middle school! The problem is you've changed," she yelled, "all of you! And Brenda doesn't want anything to do with you, Nick! In fact neither do I!"

"She's the one who's changed!" he shot back, breaking free from his friends to advance on them.

Doug rushed forward and gripped the front of his shirt, black rage filling him. He half lifted him, half shoved him back toward his friends, who caught him before he fell. "Stay away from her, you hear me?" he shouted, pointing at him menacingly. "Whatever you did to make her feel she needed to defend herself—"

"All I did was kiss her!" Nick screamed, flinging his arms wide. "I didn't do anything to her!"

"I told you no!" Brenda cried back, her voice a bloodcurdling scream. "You stay away from me!"

"Keep your distance," Doug warned, shoving him in the chest again. When one of his friends swung at him he hit ducked and swung back, amazed when the kid lay flattened on his back in the sand. When he didn't even try to get up Doug advanced on them. "Now back off, all of you!" he ordered.

"She always wanted it before," Nick snarled, enraging him that he grabbed him again. Nick choked, trying to pry his hands off, but he could not. When he started to raise his knee, Doug swung and punched him hard. He cried out, cradling his jaw with both hands.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size, huh?" he warned, watching him turn and stumble away.

"She's not worth it," he said, his pride clearly wounded. Behind him someone snickered.

"Take him on when you're not stoned, man," he laughed, slapping Nick on the back as they all retreated.

"Tougher than he looks," another voice sang out.

Feeling the girls surround him Doug led the way back toward his car, curling his arm around Brenda's shoulders.

"Go find another girlfriend to pick on," Missy shouted back.

"Anyone who comes near Brenda has to go through me," Doug added, watching them saunter away.

"Wow, you really hit him good," Missy laughed nervously, looking up at him. "And Nick's on the football team."

"He's an idiot," Alex said in disgust, guiding Brenda onto the pavement.

"Brenda, I had no idea your brother-in-law was so tough!" her high school friend said to cheer her up. But Brenda just huddled against him, eager to get in the car.

He waited while the girls climbed into the back seat, watching them cover Brenda up with a blanket they'd brought along to the party. He felt grieved by the way her birthday had ended, wondering how she would recover from this apparent setback. For it was clear to him that Nick had tried to make a move on her, perhaps without even knowing what she'd been through. Though her girlfriends seemed to be aware of it.

Glancing warily toward the bonfire, he saw that no one had remained and sighed tiredly. With a grunt of pain he realized the stumps of his fingers were aching and burning, but he climbed in and started the car. Revving the engine, he put it in gear and burned rubber, leaving the parking lot behind as fast as he could. Glancing in the rear view mirror, he met Alex's wide-eyed stare as she held on to Brenda.

"She alright?" he asked, glancing ahead as he added 30 mph to the speed limit.

"Now that those morons are far behind," Missy sighed, glancing behind them. "I hope they don't come after us."

"I know a different way out," he reassured them, taking a side road he prayed the others didn't know. He'd found it when checking out the safety of the meeting place before Hank's arrival, and sensed that it was safe enough. Then he glanced up into the mirror again.

"Brenda," he called, waiting until she answered before glancing back up to meet her gaze. "Tell me what happened back there."

When she didn't answer, Alex spoke up. "All I know is that one minute they were just talking over by the fire, the next minute they're gone. They came back with him crying in pain and Brenda's eyes all fiery."

"He said she attacked him," Missy supplied, patting Brenda's arm.

"When I saw them she tried to push him into the fire," Alex added, turning to Brenda. "I had no idea you were that much of a warrior, Bren."

To their surprise Brenda laughed softly, the sound ending like a whimper. "I hate him."

"You were great, Bren, like a wild woman," Missy marveled.

"He must have done something to set that off," Doug stated, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced back up into the mirror. "You really didn't need me, except for a getaway car."

She laughed softly again, relaxing a bit. "Thanks," she said simply, reaching up to push back a lock of hair. He felt anger hit him in the gut at the trembling in her hand.

The girls spoke softly among themselves as he nursed his anger, planning all sorts of revengeful acts until he caught himself. Clearing his throat, he asked where to drop off the girls.

"I'll get my brother to pick up my car," Alex shrugged.

"Can she come home with us?" Brenda asked, and he met Alex's gaze in the mirror. She nodded, hugging Brenda close.

"Sure," he said, directing his gaze back on the road. "What about you, Missy?"

"Do you know Lakeshore Drive?" she asked, leaning closer.

"Yeah," he sighed, it's on the way…just give me directions once we're on it."

"Ok…you're great for coming out to our rescue," she sighed, leaning back. "I'm so tired…"

He wanted to question them more but respected their mood, which was dazed and exhausted. When she was ready Brenda would tell him.

They dropped off Missy and by the time he pulled into his own driveway he felt drained. Brenda opened the door and headed for the house, not waiting for them until they all stood by the front door. He unlocked it and let them in, turning to bolt it behind them. Brenda darted off into the bathroom while he and Alex exchanged weary looks.

He nodded toward the bathroom, eyeing her new friend as he listened to the quietness of the house. Thankfully they'd disturbed no one else, coming in so late. "She tell you what happened to her, back in New Mexico?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, gazing up at him. "Yeah… I'm sorry for what you went through, too."

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "…he must have threatened her without realizing what he was doing."

Her eyes went wide. "She'd never tell _him,_ or any of them!" she hissed in a whisper. "I don't' think Missy even knows, but I'm sure she suspects."

"The fact that she told you says a lot," he said quietly.

She took a deep breath. "Looks to me like she's needing a whole new life for herself, but I have to admit she even scared me."

"Thanks for staying with her," he sighed. "I didn't want her to go out with them, but I wasn't sure if she'd told you anything."

"She insisted it would be fine…for closure's sake she said."

He nodded. "It occurred to me that she might not be ready to go out with her old friends, but I don't have the right to dictate to her."

"No, but something tells me she'd let you," she breathed, smiling crookedly at him. "But _only_ you."

He shook his head. "She doesn't need."

"I think she does, and she trusts you."

"She's got her whole life ahead of her," he insisted, leaning back against the door.

"Well she trusts you," she said, studying him carefully. "Maybe you need to get used to the idea, but don't tell her I said so—she might kill me too."

He shook his head. "We both know she's not a killer, but she's been through hell," he said quietly, looking her in the eye. "Trust me, I know what I'm talking about."

She stared up at him. "I'm sure you do…"

He had the oddest feeling that she knew everything about him, but he could see that she was feeling the effects of the night. Brenda opened the door and came out, smoothing her shirt and pushing back a strand of her hair. He felt a wave of over-protectiveness crash over him, again angered at Nick for pressing her.

"Hey," she greeted them softly, gesturing toward the family room. "Mind if we crash in there?" she asked sheepishly, looking at Alex. "We can pull out the sofa bed—it's a good one. Lynne made sure it had a good mattress."

"Fine with me," he breathed, looking her in the eye. "I'll bring down some blankets…you let me know if either of you need anything, ok?"

She nodded, staring up at him gratefully. Then she surged toward him, wrapping her arms around him with her face pressed against his collar. "Thank you," she breathed.

He touched her back with the gentlest of embraces and then she was stepping back, taking Alex's arm. "Good night," she said, dragging her off toward the family room.

"I'll leave everything on the bench here," he whispered, and she waved goodnight.

_**Abe leaned toward him, putting down his coffee mug. **_"You look like hell, son," he observed with a frown, glancing toward the baby. Ceil was feeding her, throwing Doug a worried glance from time to time. "Your aunt says you haven't the time or strength to operate a shelter for the homeless."

"Dad," he warned wearily, feeling the pain meds beginning to work on his fingers and headache. "I told you she needed me. How could I say no?"

He shook his head. "You all need more therapy…you sure she's going regularly?"

He nodded. "Her brother's keeping track of it, secretly of course."

"And he reports to you?" he asked with a glint in his eyes.

Doug nodded, taking another swallow of coffee. "Yeah, he does."

"You're running on empty, Douglas," his aunt scolded, glancing meaningfully at his breakfast, which lay untouched before him. "You need to keep up your strength."

"Yes ma," he breathed with a sleepy grin. "I'll eat it—when my head stops pounding."

"I thought the migraines were less frequent?" she worried, smiling at the baby's arrangement of Cheerios on her high chair tray.

"They are, generally," he yawned, aware of his father's scrutiny. "What is it, Dad?"

"He trusts you then," Abe surmised, a pleased grin spreading his cheeks. "I knew it was only a matter of time."

"Yeah well we haven't killed each other," Doug admitted, reaching for more coffee. "At least not yet."

"He'll come around," Abe predicted, sitting back from his cleaned plate. "You were almost as stubborn."

Doug smiled cynically and added half and half to his coffee with a sigh. "Don't remind me."

"You look like you put on a little more weight," Ceil noted with an approving nod. "Almost back to your previous, by the looks of it."

"Yeah I'm getting fat just sitting around," he sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes.

"Datde ti-ii-rid," a small voice soothed, opening his eyes. He heard his Aunt gasp, Abe sat forward and he stared at his daughter.

"Did she just say what I thought?" he choked, shifting to the edge of his seat. He leaned toward her, noting her bashful smile as he took her hand in his. "Say it, sweetheart: Daddy's tired."

She giggled softly, her cheeks dimpled as she circled her fingers around his thumb. "Dat-di tir-ed."

"She's talking!" he croaked, his heart soaring as Ceil praised her and Abe hooted softly. At the thought of Lynne missing this momentous occasion he felt a wave of grief and hung his head. Her little hand squeezed his but he was torn up with grief, knowing he must praise her too. But his throat was choked with emotion and his eyes flooded with tears. He felt his father's hand on his back.

"It's all right, son," Abe soothed, smoothing his hand over his shoulder. "She's not upset."

Doug lifted his head and blinked back the tears, smiling as he stood and lifted her from her high chair. Cradling her close, he breathed in her soft scent and closed his eyes. "Daddy's tired," he repeated, and after a moment lifted his head to look into her huge eyes. "Now say Daddy's happy!"

She cooed, both hands coming up to his cheeks. Leaning in for his kiss, she pulled back to stare at his mouth. "Datde ho-ppi!"

He kissed her cheek and raised her over his head, then kissed her again. "Right—daddy's happy! What a brilliant girl you are, sweetheart!"

"Not too high, Doug," Ceil cautioned as he lifted her overhead again, delighting in her giggles.

"He knows," Abe reassured her, sighing with pleasure. "Another brilliant Bukowski, that's all I have to say."

_**Brenda closed her eyes, listening to the voice on the other end of the line. **_They'd been talking for over an hour already, and she knew her friend had to get home to her husband.

"So you take what I've told you to heart, alright sweetie?" she was saying, bringing Brenda back to the present.

"Ok," she breathed, still not convinced. "I'll try."

"And make sure you tell your therapist everything—that's very important."

"I will…the new one is an older woman," she told her.

"Now, one more thing—tell me about Doug."

She stared at the ceiling, knowing this had been coming. "Tina, I told you—he's fine. He's great with the baby, and he and Bobby are getting along much better. His fingers have healed nicely, and he can even type with them a little now. He's set up the online group and it looks like all the families are represented now…"

There was a lengthy pause on the other end of the line. "But how is his mood? Is he seeing anyone?"

"Doug's not dating, Tina—"

"No, I mean a therapist sweetie! Of course I'm interested in that too—"

"Don't start Tina! You can't matchmake from New Mexico very easily."

"Oh yeah? You think I don't have ways? Anyway the only matchmaking I'd be doing involves you and him."

She rolled her eyes at her friend's audacity. "He loves Lynnie, and probably always will."

"As one would hope," Tina agreed.

Brenda sat up, interested. "What do you mean? I thought you were trying to marry him off, like his own family's doing. But I can tell it upsets him."

"Now notice something about him—he and your sister were only married what a few years?"

"Two and a half," she sighed, toying with her hair and hearing Bobby's stereo blasting down the hall.

"And in that short time he fell deeply in love, which is an admirable quality."

"What are you driving at, Tina?"

"A man that much in love so early in a marriage says a lot about his character and personality. He's the kind of man who is deeply committed even after a typically short period of time."

"And that makes him good marriage material? If he even knew we were talking about this he'd be upset, Tina."

"As he should be, but I'm saying all this for your benefit, Brenda…don't you see? You've got to look at him from a more objective viewpoint, not from the sister-in-law side."

"But I am his sister-in-law!"

"Who happens to be attracted to her brother-in-law, right?"

Brenda bit her lower lip. Dare she admit it, even to Tina? "I can't go there, Tina—"

"Not now, no, but you will…I can sense it and I think you can too."

She sighed mightily, lying back against her pillows. "All right, I am attracted to him, setting aside the complication of being his sister-in-law—"

"But you're not in that relationship anymore, Brenda."

She chewed her lip. "No, I guess we're not."

"Let's try this—you say the baby is talking already, is she walking yet?"

"She's taking a few steps, with us holding her hands up."

"Well what happens when she calls you Mama?"

Brenda was shocked, aware of the prolonged silence between them. "Mama? But why would she? Don't babies have to hear the words before they repeat them?"

"Usually, yes—but you said Doug is starting her in a playgroup?"

"That's right, next week."

"So she'll hear Mama being said by other babies in that kind of setting…she calls Doug daddy, right?"

"Yes but it sounds more like dat-dee."

Tina chuckled. "She sounds like a smart little girl and her Apgars were good on the medical records we were faxed."

"Apgars?"

"Yes, the developmental markers for newborns."

"How did you get that information?"

"Honey, when you work in a nursery you have to have all the details—her records weren't that hard to find. My point is that she's smart and she'll be picking up things around her in no time. So she'll notice that Doug is not the kind of being other babies call Dat-dee and she'll be hearing Mama so what do you think she'll do?"

"She'll know she doesn't have a Mama—"

"Until you bring her to the class, which I imagine you might have to do someday."

Brenda felt her heart begin to pound. "No, Doug is committed to bringing her."

"Well what if he's tied up? You have mornings off with no classes, and you can't tell me you wouldn't want to take her at least once…"

"So when I take her she'll call me Mama?" Brenda said hesitantly.

"Look I'm just trying to prepare you because I sense that nobody's really dealing with the future yet, am I right?"

Brenda let out a sigh of frustration. "You're right," she said, picturing Catherine doing exactly that. "And I just realized how upset that would make Doug, hearing her call me Mama."

"Of course it will…look honey, just think about what I've said. When Catherine says that he'll realize it, which will make him realize that she needs to call someone Mama unless he's planning on being a single dad his whole life."

"I think he is," she replied, hating to picture Doug in that role. _He should marry again, _she thought.

"Just think about it, hun…look I've got to go, but I'm so glad you called me. Remember what we discussed, ok? Anytime you want to talk call me, just remember the time difference if it can wait and you don't need me in the middle of the night. I do need my beauty rest."

Brenda laughed, straightening. "Ok, thanks…I really miss you, you know."

"I miss you too…we'll keep in touch, and you have my e-mail."

"Ok, we will…bye."

Brenda clicked off the cordless and set it down by her side. She stared out the window, watching the last few leaves drift lazily down from the overhanging branches of the oak tree outside. Moving to the window, she stood in the warm morning light and closed her eyes.

_Poor Katie…_she felt her eyes mist at the thought of her favorite little girl without a mama. A wave of longing for her sister flooded her mind, so strong that she grasped the sill and held on. Suddenly she felt a presence in the room and slowly opened her eyes. Peace flooded her heart and she choked with emotion. A quiet joy rose up within her, and suddenly all she could think of was a Bible scripture her mother had highlighted in her worn out Amplified Bible. It seemed to echo through her mind and she wondered at its power and meaning.

_It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper suitable for him…_

Stunned, she looked heavenward, wondering if what she was thinking could possibly be true. "Is that You?" she whispered, suddenly consumed with looking up the place where she'd read those very words.

Going to her night stand, she opened the drawer and grabbed the old Bible, her fingers spreading the pages until she found the first section of the story. And there she read it for herself, and went beyond that particular verse to the part about God making a wife for the first man.

_And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam; and while he slept, He took one of his ribs or a part of his side and closed up the [place with] flesh. And the rib or part of his side which the Lord God had taken from the man He built up and made into a woman, and He brought her to the man. _

"But this has nothing to do with _me_," she thought aloud, looking up. "Or with Doug."

A vision of Katie reaching out for Lynne flashed through her mind, then a flash of herself holding her close. She blinked, shaking her head.

_It is not good for him to be alone; I will make a helper suitable for him…_

"But I don't think he'd want to marry again," she whispered, looking at the photo of Lynne and herself on her bureau. "He still loves my sister."

And again the hushed words filled her mind, echoing loudly all around her.

_It is not good that the man should be alone…_

_**Doug hung his head, fighting off the demands of his body. **_Breathing heavily, he planted his hands upon the wall before him and took several deep breaths. After a few moments he lifted his head and pushed away, glancing around at the other men working out in the physical therapy gym. His side ached today but his head was better. His fingers were still numb but he was more accustomed to the fleeting phantom pain. He was on the road to recovery, though somewhat slower than expected according to his physician.

"You went up on your bench press weight," one of the other men called out, raising a thumb in his direction. "Good job."

He lifted a hand and nodded, heading off toward the showers and thankful there were no women in the weight room. Further temptation was something he didn't' need, and an especially cold shower was definitely in order. The hunger he felt often gripped him when he least expected it, though he prayed for strength on a daily and sometimes hourly basis. As he entered the locker room he glanced about, grateful to have it to himself.

Pulling off his drenched sweats he stepped under the spout and turned on the cold water, gasping in shock as the chilling spray hit him. After a few seconds he blindly for a squirt of soap, lathered it between his hands and quickly washed his sweaty skin, enduring the cold torture for another full minute as his body went thankfully numb. He stepped away, added hot water and waited before stepping back under to wash his hair in a more tolerable temperature. So went his daily routine before he headed to the store and opened up, facing another hopefully busy day as he tried to bring his accounts back into the black. The stolen money had been returned, minus a few hundred dollars Tim had squandered and would never be recovered. But he had his father's lawyer friend working on that, as well as helping him with managing the Carter estate.

Numbers filled his head as he dried off and strode to his locker, turning the combination wheel until it opened and he could get his dress clothes out. They had enough funds in the estate to cover both Brenda's remaining year of tuition and all four years of Bobby's, and then some. The Carters had left their surviving children and grandchild well provided for. The only problem was his failing store and the burden of his own mortgage, which his father often pointed out he could no longer afford.

_You've got to sell the house, Doug, _he'd lectured again at the end of his last visit, with Ceil's approval. And it was true—their house was older and in need of some major repairs which he'd anticipated a few years ago. It was going to be a stretch and he refused to use Lynne's money for anything, thinking it unconscionable to repair a house she no longer inhabited. At least in bodily form.

He stepped into his shoes and finished shoving his dirty clothes into a plastic bag. As he headed for the store he thought of Brenda feeding Catherine and watching her until she drove her to the store before her first class at 2, feeling guilty for depending on her so much. But she was doing better now as they headed toward the holiday season that would either make or break his store's future. She was seeing a therapist twice a week now while Bobby sat in another office of the same practice and poured out his own problems. And though he hated to admit it, it seemed to be working.

"Shrinks," he mumbled to himself as he headed for his car. "They make a ton of money just for listening." His own sessions were more intensive due to his combined issues, and he didn't think they helped much, but his counselor kept insisting it was because he wouldn't open up enough. Sometimes he thought it might be better just to give the poor man what he wanted and scream out all his frustrations. At least that might shut him up and make him stop pushing drugs at him.

Shoving aside the direction of those thoughts he checked his phone and found a new text message, this one from Brenda. Opening it up, he glanced down at it while the car heated up and laughed. There was Catherine sitting in her wheel-about, her mischievous grin shining brightly as she held onto the edge of the curtain, tempted to tug on its hem. Which would bring down the rod onto her head, he worried, reading the caption:

_Despite the obvious imminent danger picture above, this feisty girl's fun was intercepted by the watchful eye of her caretaker, Ms. Brenda C and said curtain was pinned above her reach, averting the predicted fall of the curtain rod. Have a nice day, Dad! Love C & B_

He laughed aloud, shaking his head as he texted back a message to her: _What would we ever do without you, Wonder Woman? Love D_

The warmth of the sun bathed him in its faint yellow glow as his laughter faded. He knew that he needed to buy Brenda something special for her Christmas, having already chosen a new video game for Bobby that he knew he'd like but never expect. But Brenda was harder to chose for—she was artistic and sensitive but funloving too, making the need for a unique gift a necessity. He thought of asking Ceil, but knew that would be a cop-out. No, he had to go shopping, as much as he hated the prospect. As he pulled out and turned to head for the store he vowed to do it soon for he was running out of time. He and Catherine would go to the mall together, and he would definitely get her input. It wasn't crazy, he told himself, for she was already 10 months old, walking and talking more and more each day. With her help they would find the perfect gift, together. He hoped.

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt_


	16. Chapter 16 The Rift

_**Chapter 16 The Rift**_

_**The holidays rushed toward them, and by Christmas Eve Doug was exhausted. **_He'd worked 12 hour days the past week, and even with Bobby helping him out he felt it had finally caught up with him. Two new phones had come out for Christmas, and the store had been busy every day morning to night. Pulling into the driveway he stared at the brightly lit Carter house, feeling completely drained. His tired gaze traced the line of icicle lights adorning the first floor of the house, focusing upon the small but well decorated Christmas tree standing inside at the front window. Studying it a moment he felt numb inside, and eventually gathered his strength and prepared to go in. His body felt like lead and he was overcome with drowsiness, unable to move. The cold began to seep into the car as he saw the front door open. Bobby's silhouette stood framed by the light streaming from the house, and he sensed the exact moment when he'd been spotted.

_God, give me strength, _he sighed, watching lift a hand to wave him in. Overwhelmed from the emotional roller coaster both Carters were riding these days, he told himself to be patient, knowing how hard the absence of their parents and sister was especially during the holidays. He'd advised both of them not to make a big deal over Christmas, as the family had done in the past. He recognized the depression and loneliness to be stronger than the supposed joy of partying and rushing around. To him Christmas was a holiday of merrymaking and excess, but then again he was Jewish—what did he know about Christmas?

Bobby stood rubbing his arms and watching him, so he flashed the headlights to answer. He went back inside and closed the door, and it was time to go in and face them. He didn't want Catherine swept away by the same spirit, but there was little he could do about it—they celebrated the holiday with full energy. Lynne had been the most indulgent, he remembered with a sad smile. Last year she'd dressed up as an elf and an angel the first year they were married.

_Now there's one thing about Christmas I liked..._

Closing his eyes as the memories engulfed him, he couldn't prevent the depths his own roller coaster of emotion took him. After some time he pulled himself together and opened the car door. He trudged through the new dusting of snow, shivering from moisture-laden wind as he climbed the stairs. Going in, he shot the door against its cold blast, locked and bolted it behind him and kicked off his shoes. It was warm and the air smelled of baking cookies. Pulling off his coat, his stomach growled, reminding him that again he'd forgotten to eat lunch. Catherine cried out in protest from the direction of the kitchen, and as he glanced at the Christmas tree and Santa decorations in the living room he sighed with resignation. Time to face the ultimate of non-Jewish extravaganzas—Christmas Eve.

Once he entered the kitchen he stopped as Beast leapt toward him barking a greeting. Leaning down to pet his head, he held Brenda's surprised gaze with a wan smile and shifted his attention to his daughter's huge eyes where she stared at him from her high chair. Her arms went up in pleading.

"Dat-dee!" she cried eagerly as he headed toward her.

"Doug—can you give me a hand with these lights?" Bobby cried out from inside the garage as Brenda eyed him like troops relieving an exhausted combat unit.

He lifted Catherine to his shoulder, kissed her cheek and glanced furtively toward Brenda, who stood amidst bowls, canisters and baking sheets with a smudge of flour on her cheek. Beneath her apron she was wearing a navy velour sweatshirt over a white tee and had pinned her hair up in braids. But her eyes were reddened and puffy as she lifted her floured hands in exasperation.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed, shaking her head, "this is just too much for me to handle!"

_Thank God for Chanukah, _he thought as he went over to greet her. _Light a few candles, fry a few latkes and play a simple game of dreidel…one present a night and only one song._

"Why do you have to make so many cookies?" he asked, feeling Catherine's arms tighten around his neck. He breathed in the soft scent of her hair, feeling himself beginning to relax.

"They're Christmas presents for the neighbors and for friends!" she cried, wiping her sleeve across one eye. Leaning toward him, she rose to her toes and kissed his cheek. He patted her back comfortingly before she blew her bangs off her forehead. "I've already made six dozen but I've still__got three more recipes to start!"

He picked up a piece of burnt cookie as she went back to work, chewing it and studying the stained and tattered cookbook she was using. He remembered Lynne consulting it in the past, feeling the empty hole of his loneliness open wider. Brenda looked up from creaming butter and sugar together, her eyes widening.

"Don't eat those—they're burnt!"

He shrugged. "I like the burnt ones," he muttered as Bobby stuck his head in the kitchen, frowning as he witnessed the interaction.

"You're weird, man," he declared, lifting a string of half lit lights. "Wanna help me figure out which one's the replacement bulb?"

Doug squinted at him in disbelief, swallowing hard. "You're asking _me_?"

Brenda snorted a laugh. "Give him a break, Bobby—he just walked in the door."

"All right—later Dude," he sighed, disappearing again.

"How's my little sweetie?" he cooed to Catherine, who had started to sing a tune he actually recognized. "They making her sing Christmas songs at playgroup?"

Brenda reddened but kept stirring. "Sorry, I didn't know how to avoid it—that's what you get for asking me to take her these last two weeks."

"I had to, the store's been so busy," he sighed, sitting down at the counter. Glancing around, he saw no sign of dinner or even leftovers, unless it was cookies. "Guess I should have brought take-out, huh?"

She glanced up, pausing in mid-stroke. "No, I made some stuffed shells—hang on," she warned. "I just need to mix in the dry stuff. Then I can chill the dough and reheat them."

"I'll do it," he offered, getting up and going to the refrigerator. He bent low, placing a hand on Catherine's back. Spying the bowl of tossed salad, he set it onto the counter and pulled out the glass pan holding the shells. It was covered with plastic wrap, all ready for microwaving. "This looks great—thanks."

"I found it!" Bobby called from the garage, prancing in and dancing around in a circle, the lit string of lights around his shoulders.

Doug shook his head, elbowing the refrigerator door shut. "And you think I'm weird."

"He's really an elf disguised in human form," Brenda sighed, turning back to work after snickering at her brother. "Which would explain his obsession with Lord of the Rings and all things elvish."

"I prefer hobbits myself," he admitted, one-handedly setting the shells inside the microwave oven and punching the time in. "They're much more down to earth… always ready for a meal and a pint."

She met his half-smile with her own. "But elves are more mysterious," she sang as she covered the bowl of cookie dough with plastic wrap. "More ethereal and spiritual."

He came toward her and picked up another piece of dark-brown sugar cookie. "But it was Frodo and Sam who saved Middle Earth," he reminded her, moistening his lips. "Never underestimate the good ole' boys."

She glanced at his mouth before meeting his gaze. "No, never again will I do that."

He held her gaze, sensing that she meant him. He still had no idea what had overcome him and enabled him to defeat the mutants.

"Dat-de can-dels," Catherine cooed, gripping his chin until he looked at her. After a moment he understood what she meant.

"That's right, sweetheart," he marveled, "we have to light the Chanukah candles your grandma bought for you. It is the last night…"

_**Brenda stared at the firelight, finally relaxing for the first time that day. **_She eyed Bobby, who was engrossed in the new video game Doug had given him. The empty seat across from her caused her to lift her wrist and again study the most beautiful bracelet which she'd ever been given. Doug had chosen it for her gift, and as she turned her wrist the different angles revealed more interesting details she'd not noticed before. He'd mentioned Lord of the Rings earlier, and now she knew it had been a subtle hint—the bracelet looked elvish, in fact. It was sterling silver, a cuff bracelet engraved with a beautiful ivy design and tiny flowers interwoven with each other. It was unique, one of a kind by the looks of it, the perfect gift for her. Now she wondered if somehow he'd sensed her secret desire to design jewelry too.

"Bobby, do you think these designs look elvish?" she asked, wondering if he even heard her. He tilted the controller, his eyes glued to the screen. Thankfully he'd turned the sound way down because Doug had made him. He was upstairs putting Catherine to bed, but she was actually glad to have it quiet in the house. Stretching her legs out along the sofa, she eyed the snow flying past the window.

"I'll check later," he finally answered, eyes still on the screen. When she glanced over blobs of blood exploded across the screen and a buzzer rang out. "Got him!" he declared, jumping up and dancing in place. "I finally got to the next level!"

"I'm happy for you," she sighed, looking up as Doug came in. He stopped to stare at the screen, folding his arms over his chest as the scores flashed on.

"That was fast," he stated as Bobby continued to the next level. "I thought it would be challenging enough, but looks like I was wrong," he added, sitting down opposite her. He eyed her legs as he sank low into the cushions.

"You look tired," she said, drawing her feet back, but he grabbed her ankle and smiled devilishly. She threw up her hands and cried like a damsel in distress, tugging to get free but he held fast.

"I'll warm them for you," he said in a troll-like voice, raising an arm to fend off the pillow she aimed at him.

"Release me!" she ordered, pulling back and swinging again. He deepened his voice as he pulled the pillow from her grasp.

"I've got you now!" he growled, grabbing her other ankle and pulling her toward his end of the couch.

"Unhand me, you beast!" she laughed.

"Say the magic word!" he said devilishly, capturing Bobby's attention.

"Hey—wanna keep it down? I'm trying to concentrate here!" he pleaded, shaking his head as Brenda sat higher and grabbed Doug's sleeve.

"The password!" he insisted.

"Release me, you oaf!" she ordered as he pulled off one of her socks and released her, leaning back in defeat.

"There goes my dinner!" he roared quietly, shaking his head.

"Thank you!" she breathed, her laughter fading as he leaned his head back. They sobered and watched the snow blowing horizontally outside. Then she saw his gaze settle on the painting she'd given him, his smile fading.

She'd worked on the portrait of Lynne and Catherine for weeks in her studio at school, using a photograph she'd found in her mother's end table to guide her. It was a watercolor in pale blues and greens, with a wash of springtime color that was both warm and cheerful. It was meant as a reminder of better, happier times. When he'd opened it his expression had become unreadable and even now she couldn't tell if it upset him or comforted him. He just stared at it, as if losing track of time and place.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "I didn't mean for it to make you sad…"

"It's beautiful," he said in awe, shifting his attention back to her. "I love it…it's just that I have to get used to it, it's so lifelike…"

"I thought it would help," she said gently, "especially when Katie gets a little older."

He nodded, his eyes drawn back to the portrait. "I'm sure it will…I can't think of a better gift."

She held up her wrist. "Well, I love my bracelet," she said, changing the subject. "Where on earth did you find it?"

He leaned back, eyes still on the painting. "A gallery on Tenth Ave."

"Thank you, it's perfect," she declared, looking up at the clock as it chimed softly—9 p.m.

"You're welcome," he sighed, closing his eyes.

He'd pulled off his glasses and leaned his head back, allowing her a chance to secretly study him. He swallowed and watched the movement of his throat, fascinated. Her eyes traveled down his chest to his stomach where his belt buckle glinted in the firelight. He sighed and shifted his injured hand to his thigh. She eyed it with curiosity, wondering if it still hurt him but she didn't ask him.

They settled into a quiet companionable silence, which she compared to the many noisy Christmas Eves of the past. This felt soothing in a way, even if it was somewhat lonely compared to everybody being here. Now it was just the three of them…four, counting Katie.

She listened to the slowed rate of his breathing while Bobby's fingers clicked at his controller. "Doug, go up and get some rest," she said gently.

He sighed, coming to a bit but keeping his eyes closed. "I'm fine," he breathed.

"Yeah, I can see you are…go on—Bobby and I had the past two days off, you didn't."

"Ok…" he sighed without moving.

Bobby glanced up with a smirk. "He's going to nod off again."

She poked his knee gently with her foot. "Hey, wake up sleeping troll."

"Hmmm," he sighed, moistening his lips before going still again.

"We'll carry you up if you don't go now," Bobby warned, closing down his game. "I'm gonna go check my facebook—hey thanks for the game, Doug, it's awesome."

"Than you…" he sighed as she met her brother's amused grimace. She remembered how Doug had laughed at the new adding machine Bobby had given him as a gift, lecturing him like he was a child and that he shouldn't keep using dinosaur equipment. Accepting the challenge, Doug had set it up and insisted on checking it out right away, learning a few tricks from Bobby which seemed to please her brother. They were getting close again, she thought with relief. The initial phase of Doug's guardian-ship had finally been weathered, at least she hoped. And for that she was grateful.

Bobby lifted a hand to wave goodnight. "Just cover him up," he suggested, eyeing Doug. "He's already pretty far gone."

"No, help me!" she pleaded, getting up as herself as he reached for Doug's arm.

"Come on, gramps," he ordered, tugging his arm despite Doug's protests.

"Just leave me…"

"Get up so we can at least pull out the bed for you," she told him.

"Unless you want to go up to the folks' room."

Doug turned his head into the cushion. "Too far…"

"Doug—come on!" Bobby groaned. Brenda took his other arm and started to pull.

"You'll thank us in the morning," she predicted. Between them they managed to pull him to his feet but he swayed tiredly. Bobby planted a hand on his chest and pushed.

"Steady old mate…"

"I'm fine on the couch…"

"You won't be by morning," she warned, throwing the cushions into the chair and tugging on the loop to pull out the bed. "Just give us a minute…you'll find it worth the wait."

He straightened and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm up—I can do it."

"Go wash up while I get the linens," she told him, eyeing Bobby not to let him sit back down.

He nodded and followed Doug toward the bathroom while she ran upstairs. Going into her parent's room she pulled down two pillows from the closet shelf and gathered up blankets and a set of sheets.

"Why doesn't he just move in here," she grumbled, gathering everything into her arms to leave. On her way down she glanced in at Katie, who was thankfully sound asleep.

They made up his bed while he washed up. By the time he came out they'd laid a pair of their father's pajamas out on what looked like a very comfortable sofa bed.

"Thanks, guys," he breathed, glancing from one to the other. "You really didn't have to bother."

"Now don't worry about Katie, I'm taking the monitor tonight," Brenda ordered, heading toward the door. "We're all going to sleep in—just pray she does too."

He nodded to their goodnights and sat down on the edge of the bed. Staring at the painting he studied Lynne's lifelike smile. "Goodnight…" he whispered to her, not moving.

Brenda eyed Bobby's disappearing leg at the top of the stairs and stared back at Doug. He didn't notice her, so intently was he staring at her painting. When he whispered goodnight to Lynne, she felt her eyes fill with tears. Then she turned and slowly climbed the stairs to her room.

_**Feeling as if he was being watched, Doug looked up from the specs he was checking **_as a heavyset man entered, setting off the bell above the door. He came toward him, glancing around the empty store without expression. Then reaching inside his coat, he stopped a few feet from the counter.

"Can I help you?" Doug asked, gripping the edge of the counter. There was something about the man that pricked his senses in warning.

"Douglas Bukowski?" he asked in a hoarse voice, flashing a badge.

_FBI? _He nodded. "Can I help you?"

Replacing the badge he stared back. "You're a hard man to track down." Then he reached into another pocket and produced an envelope, which he held out toward him.

"You are hereby served," he stated, relaxing when Doug took it from him. He dropped his gaze to the case of phones displayed before him.

Doug stared at the official looking envelope, noting the sender and _Official Business _printed below it. Swallowing hard, he stared at the man. "Served?"

"Federal grand jury," he sighed, looking up to gaze around the store. "Not very busy, are you?"

"I was last week," he shot back, raising his brows. "So you're with the FBI?"

"I am—you never get a subpoena before?"

He shook his head. "No …I don't understand—"

"Happy New Year," he said, flashing a smile before looking back into the case. "You have a pretty good deal on Blackberries, I see."

"Yeah, but I'm sold out for now," he stated. "Place was mobbed before Christmas."

The man glanced meaningfully at the envelope in his hand. "You'd better open that right away…I'll see you around."

Doug watched him stride back to the door leave, turning to offer him limp smile before he disappeared around the corner.

"I hope not," he sighed, tearing open the envelope. He stared at the summons in disbelief, his heart pounding.

…_summons to appear in Federal District Court, 10:45 a.m. Tuesday February 16, Las Cruces, New Mexico…Doña Ana County vs. U. S. Government…_

The phone rang, startling him. Reaching blindly for it as he continued to stare at the paper while Brenda's high pitched voice told him about a suspicious-looking man who'd knocked on the door.

"He was from the FBI, Doug! Bobby and I got a subpoena for a hearing! He said he needed to find you but that you were never home—"

"He found me," he said somewhat shakily, turning his back to the sun streaming in through the windows. "I'm calling my dad's lawyer to check it out, so don't worry."

"But we _have _to go!" she said somewhat panicked. "We can't ignore that kind of summons!"

"Hold on—listen to me, we're going to check this out before getting carried away, ok?"

"We're all going to have to go back there, Doug! I don't think I can do that," she cried.

"Look, try to calm down. I'm closing up, so I'll be there in a few minutes," he soothed.

"No wait—I just panicked! Please, don't let me take you away from your customers—"

"No one's been in for the last hour," he reassured her. Picking up his briefcase and keys he flipped the sign to Closed. "I'm locking up now…the baby ok?"

"She's fine," she reassured him. "She's doing a puzzle in her playpen. I'm sorry I'm so paranoid."

"Hey it's fine," he stated, draping his coat over his arm. "We'll talk in a minute, ok?"

"Okay…"

He cut the call, unlocked his car and climbed in. Starting it up, he switched on the defroster and shivered in the cold. Pulling on his coat, he waited for the engine to warm up and hit speed dial, grateful when his father answered after four rings. "Dad?"

"Doug—I was just thinking about you—"

"Listen, an FBI agent just handed me a subpoena," he began, running a hand through his hair. "Brenda got one and Bobby, too—we've all been served to appear for a grand jury hearing in New Mexico!" There was a pause on the other end of the line before his father answered, whistling low.

"I was afraid of this, but don't worry—I'll call Charlie, run it by him to see what he thinks."

"How can we go back there, Dad?" he sighed, switching on the heat. "Brenda's already freaking out."

"You might get out of it due to the hardship of travel, but I'm not sure…"

"Then again I wonder if it might be good for us," he stated. "You know, provide some kind of closure, especially if the other victims' families are involved. And we might all get a glimpse of some justice."

"I'd be very surprised if they're not involved," Abe sighed, "though you may never know. These things are handled pretty confidentially."

"I have no idea what to do or say, Dad."

"I'll let you know what Charlie says…you're obviously being called to testify.

"Yeah against the federal government—no problem, it'll be a piece of cake!" he laughed nervously. "I suppose I should be grateful they're not hauling me in for murder."

"Murder, why? It was clearly a matter of self-defense!"

"What about the other 'victims' from the miners' families?" he worried.

"If neither the sheriff's department nor the Army charged you, you don't need to worry," he reassured him. "Not after all this time."

He scanned the lot, his nerves on edge. "I hope you're right…look Dad, I gotta go. Brenda wanted me to come home."

There was another pause. "Ok—I'll call you; in the meantime take good care of her and my grandbaby too."

"I will," he said tightly, distracted by the prospect of calming Brenda down. She's just gotten back to normal after the run-in with Nick, and now this. He shook his head. "When is this ever going to stop?"

_**Bobby waved to Nate as he drove off, noting that their mom's car still sat in the driveway. **_Behind it was Doug's, and he shot an accusatory look at the front door.

"Now what?" he grumbled, ascending the stairs as he pulled out his key. "I don't need this…"

He shut the door behind him, noting Doug's boots on the waterhog mat. "I'm home!" he called.

"In here!" Brenda called from the kitchen. Pulling off his coat he stepped out of his sneakers and started toward the kitchen. When he strode in Beast looked up, his expression the same as Brenda's and Doug's—they stared at him as if caught doing something wrong.

"What's goin on?" he breathed, noting that the computer screen was jammed with open windows, the main one looking official. "What are you doing here?" he addressed Doug.

The baby monitor crackled and they heard Katie sigh in her sleep.

"We've all been subpoenaed to appear before a federal grand jury," Doug stated, his attention on the screen. He absently pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Brenda, he noted, was leaning close on the arm of his chair. She turned her attention back to the screen, reaching over Doug's arm as she pointed to something.

"There—let me copy down the number," she told him, rising only enough to reach across his shoulder to snatch a pen from the pencil cup.

He watched Doug's eyes shift from the screen to her profile before they returned to the screen.

Bobby frowned. _Don't look at her like that!_ he fumed, coming toward them. "What's a federal grand jury? And what do we have to do to get out of it?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," she sighed, sitting back down and copying something onto a piece of scrap paper. "Yours is over there on the table."

"Mine?" he worried, sauntering over to pick up the envelope addressed to him. Tearing it open he scanned the heading. "What—February? In New Mexico?" he croaked, turning to stare at them both.

"At least it's during your vacation," Brenda answered distractedly, resting her chin atop Doug's left shoulder as they both read the webpage.

_They certainly look cozy, _he thought as he went back over to them. "What are you reading?"

"The FAQs," Doug stated blandly, scrolling the screen down with the mouse. "Although I doubt we'll get exactly what we need here…we'll have to call Hank's brother to find out."

"I'll turn the printer on," Brenda offered, getting up again. She stepped behind Doug, hit the switch and rested her hand on Doug's shoulder. He tilted his head back, looking up at her.

"See that?" he asked her. "That's what Charlie was referring to."

Bobby shoved his hands into his pockets, eyeing her hand suspiciously. But she didn't seem to notice. The printer kicked in and Doug sighed, his eyes on the screen. She massaged the back of his shoulder as they studied the next web page.

"Who's Charlie?" he said suspiciously, grateful when she looked up with a smile.

"Abe's friend, the lawyer," she breathed, dropping the printed onto a stack of papers at Doug's side. "They're both trying to help us figure out what to do."

He snorted a laugh and turned to get a snack. "There's nothing to do but obey," he admitted, opening the refrigerator door and eyeing the contents. "It's the federal government, for crying out loud."

"You're right about that," Doug agreed, stretching his arms backward as she gently swatted his arm. "Hey!" he protested, smiling up at her.

She grinned mischievously. "Get back to work!"

He held her gaze a moment as Bobby watched them, noting Doug's rare smile lighting up his face.

"Yes ma'am," he drawled, again scrutinizing the page before closing it. "Your sister's a slave driver," he complained under his breath.

"Tell me about it," he agreed, pulling out a box of egg roll snacks. "Hey can we get Chinese again?"

"If you pay for it," Doug grinned, not taking his eyes off the screen.

Brenda came toward the frig. "He doesn't have any money," she told Doug, ruffling Bobby's hair as she passed him on her way to the coffeemaker. "I'm going to make a pot of decaf."

"Make it regular and I'll join you," Doug stated, half turning to catch Bobby's disapproving frown. "What?" he asked, his expression innocent.

Bobby tore open the package and reached over Brenda's head for a plate. "Nothing."

Doug turned back to his work. "We already sent out an e-mail to the other families," he said as he typed slowly, using his injured fingers. "Hopefully they'll get back to us sooner than later."

"Why? You think they'll be there too?"

He tapped the return button a couple of times, watching the screen. "My guess is we're all involved."

"Actually, it might be good to fly out there," Bobby stated, punching the time to heat his snack. "At least we'd get away from the cold."

"I just want to get this all over with," Brenda sighed, pushing the brew button. She leaned back against the counter and met his gaze. "But we could use some justice."

"You can say that again," Doug breathed, turning and pulling his glasses off. Bobby watched Brenda's gaze sweep over him as he did so. She colored slightly before shoving away to deal with Beast.

In that moment he had a revelation, and saw them all together as a family. Brenda would marry Doug and adopt Katie, and he would be the third wheel…or fourth. For the first time he faced that distinct possibility, feeling stunned.

"What's with you?" Doug asked, getting up and coming toward him. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Bobby met Doug's intense gaze, feeling like his eyes were drilling right through him. Staring back, he watched Doug's eyes narrow with that crinkling at the corners. "Nothing," he answered thickly, moving past him to slide onto the bench at the table.

Doug eyed Brenda, who shrugged as she inhaled the aroma of brewing coffee and dished out Beast's supper. "He's upset, that's all."

"Upset about what?"

Bobby waved dismissively, hating the way they spoke of him as if he wasn't there. Maybe they didn't want him to be. "Forget it," he replied, looking at the magazine on the table.

"No," Doug stated, walking over to put his hands on his hips. "Talk."

"Dude I said it's nothing," he warned without looking up.

"I want to know what's bothering you," Doug insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. "The fact that I'm here, not home."

"Ah, I'm going to take Beast out," Brenda sang, reaching for his leash now that he'd gobbled down his food. "Come on, boy…time for a walk."

Bobby waited until the door slammed behind them, then looked up. "Why are you standing over me, man? I said forget it."

Doug sighed mightily and sat down stiffly. "Look I know something's bothering you—it's been eating you for a while."

"Oh yeah?" he sighed, turning the page and scanning the ads. "Well maybe I don't want to talk about it." _Not to you._

"Look if it's about the estate, we can discuss it," he offered, leaning his arms on the table and waiting.

"It's not that!" he warned, realizing that when Doug had his mind set on something he wouldn't back off, no matter what.

"Look the hearing is something we should have expected—"

"It's not that! Back off, ok?" he warned, flipping the magazine shut and glaring at him. He shifted his gaze to the windows, beyond which he saw the pompom on top of Brenda's knit hat pass by.

"Is it your sister? You know, I think she's doing much better now—"

"Oh yeah, she's doing _great _now, thanks to you!"

Doug stared at him a moment, then laughed in disbelief. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means," he growled, sliding to the edge of the bench and getting up. Just then the timer on the microwave pinged, and he opened the door and took out the snack. But it was too hot to eat just yet.

"No, I don't know what that means," Doug stated. "I don't read minds, you know."

"Really? You seem to read _her _mind well enough," he mumbled.

"What?" he shot back, and when he didn't answer he came toward him. "What did you say?"

"You heard me."

Doug stopped a foot away, hands back on his hips. "If I heard _correctly_, you're all wrong."

"Am I?" he warned, turning to face him. "Then tell me you two aren't falling for each other!"

Doug paled as he stared back at him. "You're kidding, right? This is some kind of joke—"

"I'm not joking," he said flatly, watching him carefully as he shook his head. For a minute Bobby wondered if he'd misread him. There was no hint of guilt or embarrassment, as he'd expected. But he still had a gripe with him for being around so much.

"Well you should be, and it's not funny," Doug warned.

"Come on, man—I see the way she looks at you, rubs your shoulders and leans on you—"

"Woah, wait a minute," he said, holding up a hand. His expression was sure, undermining his presumptions. "That's how she is—she's expressive and uses her hands just to talk—you know that."

"Oh yeah, she's 'expressive' all right!" he shot back. "She's attracted to you! I don't think I'm imagining it, or the fact that you feel the same way."

"Oh yeah? Since when do you know everything?" Doug replied, his eyes tortured. He was clearly upset at the idea. Bobby suddenly sensed that he was dead wrong, for Doug's eyes filled with grief before he turned away, waving a hand backward. "I'm not even going there..."

"Ok so even if I'm wrong she's half in love with you Doug—or maybe you haven't noticed!"

"Noticed what?" she demanded. They both turned to see her standing at the door to the garage.

_How could we have missed the sound of her coming in? _Bobby wondered, gaping at her in shock. Picking up two egg rolls, he stuffed them into his mouth as Doug stood still, his back to them.

"I said 'noticed what'?" she demanded in a warning tone.

He shrugged and headed for the stairs. "I've got to work on my physics," he mumbled. Behind him he heard her say Doug's name and paused, lingering at the bottom of the stairs to overhear them.

"It's nothing to worry about," Doug reassured her gently.

"It didn't look like that," she shot back. "I want to know what you were arguing about."

"Nothing, just guy stuff," he answered casually.

"Oh really? It was about me wasn't it?"

"I said it's just guy stuff, Brenda—"

"I don't believe you!"

"Well I'm sorry you don't—"

"I want to know what you were fighting about!"

"All right!" he shouted back, making Bobby wince. "It _was_ about you, but he's just looking out for you, that's all!"

He could hardly believe Doug wasn't ratting him out. Listening intently, he noticed sounds coming from the monitor. Katie was stirring from her nap so he glanced up the stairs, doubting that Doug would be able to hear her out in the kitchen, now that they were arguing.

"Was it about going back to New Mexico?" she demanded.

"Not really—why don't we just drop it and make something for dinner, ok?"

"Drop what? Look I have just as much of a right to know what's going on between you two—"

Wincing, Bobby realized he shared a suspicious nature with his sister. In an instant he thought he'd been wrong about Doug'sfeelings. Brenda he wasn't so sure about.

"I said it's just guy talk, protective talk—"

"Well it's not fair! I won't have you two treating me like some mental case you have to worry about, especially behind my back!"

"You've got this all wrong, Brenda! We were just—"

"You know what? I don't care what you or Bobby or anybody thinks, I'm not crazy—"

"Nobody said you were!"

"But you're both thinking it!"

"We weren't discussing how crazy anyone was! We're all seeing shrinks, not that _that _says anything!"

Katie started to whimper, and Bobby was torn whether or not to go to her. But he didn't want to miss the fight.

"You know what Doug? You're not my father or my mother, and you're certainly not my keeper!"

"No, but your mother named me Bobby's guardian, and as far as I'm concerned your welfare is included!"

Katie cried out for her father, though Bobby knew he wouldn't hear her. When she really started to fuss he climbed the stairs to go to her, missing nothing now that they were shouting at each other.

By the time he descended the stairs Doug was hurrying toward him. He stopped, holding Katie as Doug grabbed his coat, then reached for her.

"We're leaving," he said in a quiet tone, visibly angry. "Take your sister out for some fun, will you?"

"Nobody's taking me out for anything!" she screeched, coming into the foyer. She froze when she saw the baby was up. Katie was crying in earnest, but Doug wrapped her in his coat and grabbed his briefcase as he stepped into his boots.

"Let me help you, man," Bobby offered, surprised when he pulled open the door and headed down the stairs without a word. "Doug wait," he called after him. "I can explain!"

Brenda pushed into his side, and they both watched as he stalked to his car, settled the baby in her car seat and climbed in. He started up the car and without warming it up backed out of the driveway.

Then she turned on him. "What did you say to him, huh? I know this is all your fault!"

"Me? I didn't do anythi—"

"Oh yes you did," she accused, pushing at his shoulder. "Now you're going to tell me what you said to him, right now!"

"Like he said, it was just guy talk," he laughed nervously. "I was only looking out for you—arrest me!"

She glanced out at the empty driveway, tears in her eyes. "If you're not telling me the whole truth I'll know, and then you will be very, very sorry," she said, her voice breaking.

"What is it about him, huh?" he railed at her. "To protect him you come after me? It's Doug—"

"Oh it's all about you and Doug, isn't it?" she screamed, her eyes full of moisture.

"No as a matter a fact it's about _you _and Doug," he yelled back. "So don't you cover up what's going on 'cos I know!"

She squinted at him as if he were a bug under a microscope. "Nothing's going on!"

"I see how you look at him and touch him," he panted, "and watch him when you think nobody's looking!"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about _you _falling for him, that's what!"

Her face blanched as she glanced back toward the door. "Is that what you said to him?"

"Yeah, maybe not in those exact words—

"How could you?" she croaked, "look what you've done now!"

"Look what _you've _done—"

"Didn't you see his face? Isn't he upset enough without you adding to it? How could you do that to him?"

"Because I know it's true—you like him—no you're falling in love with him!"

"So what if I was?" she shot back in challenge. "He's wonderful—who wouldn't love him? Look what he did, going after all those creeps completely outnumbered! And you know what? He came back with Katie, that's what he did but now he's really hurting now, and you have yourself to thank!"

_**Setting aside her pen, Brenda sighed as she looked up from her homework, giving up trying to concentrate. **_The house was so still, even with the sweet sounds Katie made while playing with her toys. She realized this was normally the time Doug would close up the store and come join them for dinner, or they would meet at his house for the evening. Shifting her attention to the front door, she thought of Beast waiting there for his arrival, but today the shepherd was getting his grooming at the vet's. Bobby wouldn't be home for a few hours, and she still had no idea when Doug was planning on dropping by to pick up the baby.

It had been two weeks since the fight and ever since then he'd avoided her as much as possible. She hated the rift between them, but there was nothing she could do to fix it. Oh she'd tried calling him but her messages were left unanswered. Going over there, she'd stand waiting but he ignored her completely. She'd even called Abe, but he'd been tight-lipped about whatever he might know. His only advice had been to "give him time."

She'd had a long talk with her brother, and had even managed to convince him to apologize to Doug, but to no avail. He had retreated into himself, that much was obvious. Whenever she did see him his eyes held that vacant look she'd grown to hate. He wasn't shaving at all and it was clear that he'd lost the weight he'd managed to gain back after his surgery. Worrying constantly about him was really getting on her nerves, but the clincher was the fact that he'd enrolled Katie in daycare, something he'd once vowed never to do. All because of her. She

Sure, they'd grown closer over the past few months but what could possibly be wrong with that? They were both lonely, their lives were empty and they were still trying to recover from everything that had happened. On the other hand Bobby had aced his SATs, thanks mostly to Doug's tutoring even though he'd cut it off since the fateful day of their argument. Bobby had even met a girl who she suspected would eventually become his girlfriend, so why couldn't he see that she and Doug needed friendship too? Or yes, maybe even something more than friendship? It just wasn't fair, and she knew she had to do something about it. But what?

Laying her head down, she felt the old familiar pain sear her heart. She missed him, and she missed Katie. And there were no substitutes that would satisfy her. That much she knew.

_Dear God, _she sighed, admitting the truth to herself and to Him. _I miss him so much…help us get close again, whatever it takes._

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt_


	17. Chapter 17 The Hearing

_**Chapter 17 The Hearing **_

_**Doug tightened his grip on his overnight bag, striding past Baggage Claim. **_He was tired from taking the red eye flight after having dropped Catherine off at his aunt's house. Frowning absently, he still felt upset for leaving her, hearing her cries echoing in his mind and seeing her reach for him as he turned to leave. Their first separation since Lynne's death was painful but necessary; there was no way out of it.

Hurrying through the crowded airport he headed for curbside loading, slowing down outside the newsstand as a group of elderly travelers blocked the way. A pretty flight attendant came out of the store, throwing him an interested look before he lowered his gaze. Pursing his lips and feeling a flash of irritation, he moved on, realizing that he just couldn't deal with women. Not with missing Lynne so badly and certainly not after the argument with Brenda. _Or rather her brother._

Finding the exit he scanned the waiting line of shuttle vans, pausing only a few seconds as the glass doors whooshed open. Then slinging his garment bag higher over his shoulder he strode out into the considerably warmer morning air and spotted the shuttle. As he approached it he nodded to the driver standing outside it and he held out his ticket.

"Welcome to Las Cruces," the man chimed as he grabbed it. Muttering a brief "mornin'" Doug climbed in and took the rear seat, leaning his head back with a tired sigh as he glanced out the window. The distant hills stood at the horizon, a foreboding reminder of what had happened when he was last in this state. Tightening his lips with grim resolve, he vowed to obtain whatever justice he could for Lynne's sake, if not for Catherine's or his own. His gut tightened with anxiety and he turned away from the sight just as the driver's eyes stared at him from the rear view mirror before he quickly glanced away.

_You don't belong here, señor…_

Closing his eyes against the headache that had so far resisted the maximum dose of ibuprofen, he was eager to lie down and hopefully take a nap to force it to release. If that didn't work then a large cup of strong coffee might. Voices opened his eyes again as he watched three other passengers board before shifting his attention back out the window, signaling a desire to be left alone. It was a maneuver he'd used all day and it had been quite effective; no one had bothered him at either airport or in-flight, and that's how he wanted it.

They pulled away from the curb and into traffic, making slow progress through the congested lanes of traffic. Finally they sped up a ramp toward the interstate connector, and he reached into his briefcase to touch the bulky file, making sure it was all there. In it were pages and pages of information he'd gathered over the last two weeks to prepare himself for the hearing. He had statistics on everything from plutonium mining and the incidence of lung cancer to nuclear test zones to journal articles on the effects of radiation exposure. And he'd not forgotten various random photocopies concerning federal hearings and Congressional testimony, all of which his father's lawyer friend had warned might result from this preliminary opening. It had been tedious and somewhat overwhelming, but it had kept him occupied and provided a good excuse for avoiding Brenda's calls. But now he knew he had to face her and Bobby—they would see each other in the morning at the federal courthouse, which he had texted her about. After that, he had no idea what would happen. The cover-up was going to end, and the truth would finally come out although it wouldn't bring Lynne back, or her parents.

Before he realized it the shuttle pulled up before his hotel and as he waited for the other passengers to precede him he felt a stab of guilt for not even letting Brenda know his flight information or his hotel. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but it was the best strategy given the circumstances. As he climbed out he headed for the lobby, approaching the desk to stand in line for check-in. It seemed quiet enough in the lobby, and somehow he sensed that Brenda would never choose the Hampton Inn; it was just too mundane a place to stay. Ceil had called him when she found out their flight information, promising not to give them his. He knew that they wouldn't be arriving until after 8 p.m. Quickly checking in, he headed for the elevators with a sigh of relief. He was on the top floor, and when he stepped in the doors closed the world off for now. He eyed the lit floor panel and prayed for favor and a fast outcome for the hearing, as well as for wisdom and the right words to say in relating his experiences to the judge. Hank and his brother would be picking him up at 9 a.m. to drive him to the federal building where he would be briefed by the district attorney who had filed the charges against the government. He'd ask Hank to pick up Brenda and Bobby, and he'd agreed. They would come later, just before the scheduled time. Only a few pre-written statements would be required of them, for which he was grateful. The bulk of the testimony was his, and he finally felt ready.

He found his room and unlocked the door, glancing around at the two queen-sized beds before he hooked the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob and locked himself in. Tossing the key card onto the desk he took a deep breath and stared at the flashing light before picking up the phone for his message. It was Ceil, reminding him to call her when he arrived. He hung up his garment bag and unzipped his overnight case, setting out his toiletries bag and picking up his cell phone again. Pressing #4 he waited until she answered, found out how Catherine was and had a brief conversation with her. His father would be coming over after work each day, so she told him not to worry—the baby was in good hands.

"I know she is," he sighed, feeling dazed and adrift being all alone. "I miss her, that's all."

"Of course you do, honey," Ceil soothed, and in the background he heard his daughter's voice. His eyes watered as a wave of emotion swept over him.

Ceil wished him good luck, told him to get some rest and that she loved him.

"I love you too, Aunt Ceil," he croaked, pressing his fingers to his head. "See you Thursday."

"Your father will be waiting at the airport," she reassured him. "Take care."

He hung up, brewed a cup of coffee using two packets of grounds and washed up. Drinking the in-room cup of coffee, he sat at the desk and took off his glasses. He didn't bother to pull back the drapes in order to spare his head the added pain of bright light. Pressing the bridge of his nose, he drank down the coffee and got up. Taking several deep breaths he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed farthest from the window. Lying back, he stretched out and flung his hand over his eyes. The hum of the air conditioner was strangely soothing, white noise he decided. He smiled, comparing the weather to back home in February.

Beginning to relax, he flung his arm out and sighed tiredly. As he began to drift off he sensed the presence again, then the whisper that filled his being as well as the room.

_Forgiveness is better than sacrifice…_

"I know," he breathed, turning onto his side and bunching the pillow beneath his jaw. Keeping his eyes closed, he faced the silent disapproval of his now familiar companion. "I've been selfish."

_And you've been hiding in your loneliness…_

"I'll call her later," he promised with a sigh, admitting to himself that the past two weeks had been awful, not having Brenda to talk to, or to see her lively expressions. But he hadn't known what else to do. Bobby had been right, as much as he'd hated to admit it to himself. He was attracted to Brenda on more than one level, and he had been for a while. She needed him, but he'd realized he needed her far more. And for that felt even guiltier.

"God forgive me," he sighed, drifting toward welcome sleep.

_**Staring at him longer than she knew she should, **_Brenda drank in the sight of him as he was distracted by Hank's brother and the district attorney, between whom he sat. She and Bobby stood just inside the courtroom, trying to decide what to do next. Hank had dropped them off a few minutes ago so they could go to the restrooms, and now that she'd spotted Doug at the front of the room she just stared, not caring that Bobby was staring at her.

"Let's get this over with," he grumbled, touching her elbow to get her moving.

The room was crowded to capacity as they walked toward the front of the room, and when they reached the front row Doug looked up, glancing at Bobby before his eyes met and held hers. She felt them searching her face, then her soul before he broke contact and glanced away. Yet in that moment she'd read the longing in him as well as the relief at seeing them. Stunned, she wondered why he'd avoided them all this time and not returned her calls. She remembered driving over to his house, seeing his car and knocking on his door, all of which had gone ignored. Her reactions had ranged from anger to frustration to despair, for she'd missed him more than she could've imagined. Now, just being near him set her senses on high alert and pumped life into her veins. And she knew such a reaction was going to be a problem for them both. Still she couldn't help it.

They seated themselves with Bobby next to Hank, who leaned over to nod encouragingly to her. Smiling to reassure him that she was okay, she tried keeping her attention on her brother instead of Doug. Bobby was extremely nervous, and she knew his stomach was off because of it. During their flight he'd been uncommunicative, his eyes glued to the game apps on his phone the whole time. Now he looked stiff and uncomfortable, sitting erect instead of in his usual slouch. She tried not to laugh as he reached up to loosen his collar. Catching her watching him, he smiled in victory at the absent tie about which they'd argued.

It had been hard enough to get him to try on suits in the men's department, and the process had taken longer than it took her to find a suitable pantsuit for herself. Not until an older saleswoman had intervened on her behalf did he begin to cooperate, and she'd been thankful for the woman's help. But the tie had been a complete waste of time. Crossing her legs, she flicked a thread off her navy pants and tried settling into the uncomfortable wooden bench, glancing again in Doug's direction.

Hank's brother was leaning toward him, speaking quietly to him as he listened intently, his eyes downcast. He nodded soberly as she studied him unaware. He was dressed in a charcoal gray suit she'd never seen before, his white dress shirt and gray and crimson striped tie a perfect match. He looked even more attractive than she'd remembered, having shaved off the bushy beard she'd last seen him with. He'd kept the lightly whiskered one she'd always liked on him, tracing its outline along his lips. Her heart went out to him as she dragged her attention away, feeling the weight of his eyes from time to time but not responding to its pull.

The time came for them to rise as the judge entered the room. He motioned for them to be seated as the officer called the hearing into session. Doug leaned forward a bit in his seat, resting his hands upon a thick file as he absently flexed his fingers, failing to see the DA wince at the sight of his fingers before glancing away. Before she knew it the DA got up and stepped forward, introducing the case and bringing up the sheriff, whom she'd never met before. Hank's brother had done all the work, as far as she was concerned, but of course he got little of the glory. Upset at the summation of everything that had happened, she felt her throat go dry with fear as the details of the tragedy were outlined in detail. She felt small and unimportant beneath the massive scope of the military's cover-up which had allowed them and the other victims to suffer so needlessly.

Through it all she concentrated on her brother and on Doug, grieving the alienation from him even more. He hadn't contacted them at all regarding his travel or hotel plans, just a brief text message telling her he'd arrived yesterday. When she'd replied with a simple "how are you doing?" he hadn't answered. Her questions about Katie were also ignored, which by now angered her. Glancing furtively at him she decided his behavior would hardly please her sister, but she soon abandoned her anger and admitted that she missed him too much to stay mad. Longing for the times they'd spent together, all four of them, she felt bereft of Katie's little presence as well. And so she sat feeling numb as she listened to the facts conclude.

She saw the judge frown deeply toward the opposite side of the room, where Colonel Greene and Captain Rohrer sat surrounded by uniformed servicemen. She could not bring herself to meet their pointed gazes, feeling sick to her stomach as mention was made of her attack and rape. Thankfully the DA returned to his seat as Doug was called forward, sworn in and guided to the witness seat.

He greeted the judge by name, as well as Colonel Greene and Captain Rohrer, his voice deep and authoritative. It captured and held her attention, as well as everyone else's, for not a sound was made as he related his experiences in a detailed but summarized fashion. The defense attorney for the Army approached him, grilling him with questions that were leading and which seemed to twist the truth into the desired defense he'd planned. She put a restraining hand on Bobby's arm as the attorney accused Doug and the family of trespassing upon federal property despite the posted warnings. Holding her breath as he hammered away at Doug, she was amazed at his sarcasm and demeaning words. Doug, to his credit, remained calm and unrattled, answering with steely reserve that was far more convincing than the mocking questions and comments directed against him. At one point the defense attorney accused of murder, gaining a contempt of court warning from the judge before he stopped. The DA stood and objected, stating that Doug's actions were clearly in self defense, resulting in saving his daughter's life as well as the lives of his brother- and sister-in-law.

When he was finally dismissed he got up slowly, holding the judge's gaze with confidence before he nodded respectfully. Walking back toward his seat, he met her gaze briefly with a slight nod before seating himself once again. Her heart soared from just that bit of acknowledgement, but it seemed like so much after having no contact with him for so long. She prayed for a way to resolve their differences, vowing to approach him before the day was over.

_**Doug took a deep breath, trying to process everything that had occurred. **_Thankfully the judge had decided to admit all the evidence presented by both the sheriff's department and the Army, but he had passed the buck, closing the hearing with an ominous decree. It was inevitable—the case would be escalated higher to a congressional sub-committee because of the Army's insistence that they were not responsible for the numerous deaths of civilians, three of whom had survived. Feeling stunned, Doug nodded to the given task of testifying before Congress, standing as the judge eyed him meaningfully before he left the room. He shifted his attention to the colonel's steely and disapproving gaze, holding it despite the dread churning inside him. The hearing thus adjourned, he heard the DA warn him to put his life on hold for now, but that he would push for a timely resolution on his behalf.

"This looks really bad for the Army," Hank's brother sighed as they stood together afterward, watching the room empty. "They could have done something years ago," he said, shaking his head.

"You can't tell me they didn't have enough proof," Hank agreed, slapping Doug's back in reassurance. "Good job, Bukowski."

"You did a great job," the DA interjected, holding out his hand while Doug shook it. He nodded to the defense attorney, who was waving him over to speak with the officers as he shook his head at Doug as if to say he was a loser.

"Can you believe they're insisting they had no idea where the perpetrators were hiding out?" Hank marveled, looking at Brenda and Bobby in amazement. "That just doesn't fly, given the technology they have."

"Well at least Captain Rohrer's not passing the buck," Doug stated, glancing toward the man in question. "Let's just hope they don't make him the fall guy."

"That's entirely possible," Hank's brother said soberly. "If it does turn in that direction, you can be sure we'll make our objections known."

He dared to look Brenda in the eyes, telegraphing her the message that he was sorry, but he couldn't say anything at the moment. She lifted her chin a bit before Bobby nodded to him but stepped between them. "Let's go," he stated, "I wanna go back to the hotel."

He watched her turn to leave before her friend Tina rushed up and hugged her. Doug remembered the nurse who'd come to visit him on base, watching Brenda hold her for some time before she pulled away and wiped at her eyes as she smiled. The man with Tina reached toward Bobby, introducing himself and shaking his hand.

"Well I think I'll be heading back to the office," Hank's brother sighed, eyeing his boss who was gesturing to him. "Good to see you again, Doug—my regards to your baby girl."

"Thanks again," he replied, shaking his hand before he turned to his brother. "You gonna take him back to his hotel?"

"I will if he wants me to," Hank smiled, nodding to his wife as she came to his side. She smiled as she took his arm.

"It was nice to meet you, Doug," she said warmly, "I'm sure you're eager to get home to your daughter, so have a safe trip."

"Thank you, it was nice to meet you too," he breathed, eyeing Brenda as they she preceded him out the door. "You know, I think I'll find my way back to the hotel—it's not far at all."

"If you need anything, just let us know," Hank reassured him. "You keep in touch."

"I will," he promised, interrupted by four people who came up to stare at him.

"Mr. Bukowski," the older man said in a choked voice, extending his hand. "My name's Daniel Goslin—from the online group? Nathan was my son…"

He studied the man's ashen face, nodding soberly as he shook his hand. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances," he stated before he introduced him to the rest of his family.

"We're so grateful to you, and your family, for standing up to all this," he sighed, glancing at the officers who were leaving the room. "For months they ignored my calls and questions…if it wasn't for Hank and his brother, and for you of course, none of this would have happened."

"We're so sorry about your wife," his wife said shyly, her eyes full of unshed tears. "We can only pray that somehow you and your baby can find peace, and the strength to go on."

"We'd like to meet your sister- and brother-in-law," the young girl with them said shyly.

Doug glanced up, spotting them. Bobby was facing him, and he waved them over. "Of course."

Bracing himself, he waited until they came back and introduced them. For some time they stood together, speaking about the early plans for a memorial and dedication service. He promised that after the Congressional hearing he would have more time to work on that, but they were grateful for his heading the organization up. Tucking his briefcase beneath his arm he watched the others leave, eyeing Bobby before he meant to turn away.

"Hey," he greeted him, noting the reddening of his face despite his smile.

"Doug," he sighed back, finally putting out his hand. "No sore feelings, right?" he asked, waiting.

Doug studied him a moment, clasping his hand. "None at all…you heading back to your hotel?"

"Ah yeah…we're leaving late tonight. How 'bout you?"

He eyed Brenda, who stood a bit aloof at her brother's side. "Not till the morning," he said, waiting for her to say something. But she didn't. "Look," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I need to apologize to you both—"

"No, I think I need to apologize to you," Bobby insisted, smiling genuinely this time. "For real…look man, I'm sorry I said things I had no business saying."

He nodded, sighing heavily and dropping his arm. "Yeah, me too…I'm sorry I didn't get back to you…either of you."

"No problem," Bobby stated, shoving his hands into his pockets. "But stay in touch, ok? We need you, man."

Doug nodded. "Yeah, I'll do that," he promised, eyeing Brenda. She held his gaze while Bobby turned and waited, seemingly distracted by something else. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, to her ears alone.

Her eyes softened and she smiled shyly up at him. Relief flooded his heart, and he felt a huge weight fall off his back. "Where you staying?" he asked her.

"At the Encanto," she said gently, nudging Bobby's arm. "He likes the pool, which he's been nagging me about trying."

"My plan is to spend the rest of the day in it," he joked, eyeing her meaningfully "So we should be driving that rental car back right about now?"

"Alright," she sighed, looking up at Doug. "Where are you staying?"

"The Hampton Inn," he admitted, nodding toward the door. "Don't let me keep you."

She lifted her chin. "You having lunch with anyone?"

"I'm not sure," he said truthfully, glancing toward the DA. "I think he wants to debrief me when he's finished threatening the colonel."

She eyed them, noting the tense posture of both men. "That might take some time…want to join us?"

He allowed himself the luxury of holding her gaze, despite her Bobby's past objections. "Maybe I'll take a raincheck."

"Time to go, Sis," he said eagerly, taking her arm. "I for one am starving-and the pool is awaiting."

"See you back home," Doug waved as they started off, Brenda somewhat reluctantly.

_**Brenda positioned herself at the check-in desk, praying she was doing the right thing. **_Still nervous about her plan, she told herself it was necessary, for she couldn't let things stay the way they'd been. They needed to talk, and it had to be tonight. She smiled as the man on duty turned and offered his help. She told him the name and waited while he looked it up.

"He just checked messages a few hours ago," he informed her with a professional smile. "Would you like me to call for you?"

She nodded. "Please…just tell him a friend is here to see him."

Biting her lower lip, she waited while the call was made, then he hung up and smiled again "He'll be right down."

"Thank you," she answered, stepping away but not quite sure where to go. Gazing up at the mobiles hanging overhead, she shuddered at the sight of buzzards and stars drifting silently overhead. That could have been their fate, she realized, lying dead in the desert and being picked on by vultures.

Unnerved, she walked toward the tables and chairs placed in the center of lobby and waited, glancing at the elevators. She told herself he wouldn't be that surprised, for what other friend would be waiting here for him?

Gripping her purse with one hand, she held it close as the doors opened and she waited. The golden finish shone like burnished bronze in the sun that streamed into the lobby. Studying the occupants as they got off, her heart sank when she saw he wasn't there. Then the light went on in the next bay and the doors parted. Holding her breath, she waited until she spotted him. He paused momentarily as their eyes met, then started for her. Her spirits lifted at the look of relief in his eyes, and then he was standing before her, his eyes questioning.

"Brenda," he greeted her simply, reaching out his hand and placing it lightly on her arm. "Is everything ok? Where's Bobby?"

She nodded, lifting her chin. _It is now_. "He's swimming, so I thought I'd come visit a little…actually I didn't have lunch, and was wondering if you'd join me for an early dinner?"

His eyes lit with an enigmatic smile, but he nodded. "Of course…I didn't have much myself, just several cups of coffee."

"So you're hungry," she double-checked, eyeing his rolled-up sleeves and open collar and thinking he looked much more relaxed than before.

"I am," he answered, glancing toward the doors. "Did you drive here?"

"Yeah, I braved the mile or so through downtown traffic," she laughed. "Why, you want to drive somewhere?"

"Actually no," he sighed, glancing toward the desk. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get out of here. Let me ask at the desk where there's a good restaurant."

"Fine with me," she sighed, following at his side. Waiting while he checked with the same man who'd called for her, she smiled happily. It felt good to be back in touch, but she didn't want him to know how much she'd missed him. _Take it slow, Brenda…very, very slow._

"Sound good to you?" he asked her, and she shrugged. "I like the idea of a greenhouse café."

"Alright—thank you," he told the clerk before touching her arm as they walked. He held the door for her, which no one ever did anymore in her experience. They walked the few blocks as directed and found it on the same street. Entering the air-conditioned lobby, they waited for a hostess and were led to a table in the cool solarium. He held the chair for her, making her laugh softly.

"What's so funny?" he smiled, finally seating himself across from her. She liked the way he leaned back into the upholstery of the booth.

"I feel like a princess, your manners are so perfect," she told him conspiratorially. "I'm not used to it, so it feels special."

He eyed her with a glint of teasing in his eye. "Your sister trained me well."

Her smile faded a bit as she leaned closer. "You have no idea how rare it is, at least in my generation."

"Oh now you've made me feel old," he groaned, picking up his menu and opening it. "Let's see what's on the senior menu."

"You're not old at all!" she shot back, smiling when he glanced up at her over the top of the menu. _He has the most beautiful eyes…even the glasses can't hide them._

"I'm too old to be as grumpy as I've been," he admitted, setting down the menu. "I hope you accept my apology."

"Of course I do, if you'll accept mine."

He glanced back at his menu. "You didn't do anything Brenda…"

"Ah, yes I did. I was a complete and total witch, and I hope you'll forgive me!"

He glanced up. "There's nothing to forgive. I acted like a moron, though to this day I don't really knowing why except to say I just flipped out."

She studied his guarded expression, feeling completely at ease with him now. "Bobby was out of line, and I'm glad he finally apologized to you again."

The waitress came for their order, which they gave before leaning back to sip their water. His expression sobered once they were alone again. "It had to be hard for you, coming back here," he said gently. "I know it was for me…"

She shrugged a bit nervously. "We had to do what we could for Lynne, and for Mom and Dad."

He glanced away, tapping his fingertips on the table. She studied him covertly, watching him purse his lips and trying not to stare at them. There was a tension between them she'd felt before, like the air was charged with electricity. She blamed it on being virtually alone with him in unfamiliar territory.

"I hate the fact that you have to get involved with more hearings," she commiserated. "How can they demand such large chunks of your time, as if you had nothing better to do?"

He met her gaze. "It's the government—they can demand pretty much anything they want."

"I suppose so," she sighed, glancing around at the hanging plants. "This was a good choice…definitely non-deserty."

"Yeah, it is…so your friend Tina came to see you."

"Yes, she's great…we've been in touch all this time," she smiled.

He looked up, a ghost of a smile playing about his lips. "I remember her, from the base. She likes nerds, as I recall."

She laughed, eyeing him skeptically. "You say that as if you don't consider yourself one."

He drew back a bit, looking offended. "Me? A nerd? That's ridiculous!"

She shook her head. "Not that ridiculous, Doug. You _are_ a graduate student in computer engineering."

"Yeah, but only part-time—"

"And the other part of your time is spent playing with electronic gadgets…a sure sign, if you ask me."

He frowned, his eyes darkening. "That's stereotyping, from an earthy-crunchy art student no less."

"What?" she breathed, pressing a hand over her heart, which his eyes followed before shooting back up to hers. "How dare you insult artists!"

"Oh it's not the artist as much as the organic produce market groupie."

"Oh really?" she teased, blushing as their order was carried over. While it was being set out he smiled knowingly, the hint of dimples almost showing. When the waitress left he eyed her veggie burger with disdain.

"Now I really have proof," he said, pointing toward her plate. "If I'm not mistaken those are _alfalfa sprouts _on that 'burger.'"

"Oh and eating a club sandwich with chips isn't a nerdy meal?" she teased back.

"No, definitely not," he said without the slightest touch of guilt, smiling at her. "But forgive me if once again I've offended you, milady."

She bowed her head in response. "All is forgiven," she breathed, picking up her burger. "I suggest a truce, milord…here's to a meal in peace, without strife."

He waved his quarter sandwich at her. "Agreed."

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt_


	18. Chapter 18 Recovery

_**Chapter 18 Recovery**_

_**Bobby stretched his arms behind him, eyeing his study mate with new intensity. **_"Wow, I'm tired," he sighed, arcing his arms back, then around to his sides before laying them on the table. Bending his head down, he rested his cheek upon the cold surface and closed his eyes. He heard her soft laugh.

"Is that a gentle hint to wrap it up?"

"Noooo," he moaned, opening one eye and offering her a crooked smile. "It's just jet lag..."

"Oh, from your impromptu vacation to the great Southwest?" she breathed, finally looking up from her homework. "I wish I could say I feel sorry for you."

"Not looking for sympathy," he groaned, closing his eye again. "…a cup of espresso would be great right now."

"Like we can get that in the cafeteria."

"Then a quick trip to Starbucks is in order," he mumbled, as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. He studied the top of her head and noted the quirky way she held her pen as she wrote. "Wanna come?"

She stopped writing and glanced up. "To Starbucks," she repeated, her brown eyes wide, "with you..."

"Of course with me," he said, feigning hurt feelings, "unless you want to go with _those_ two …"

Jeremy snorted and glanced up at him from his history. "No way, dude—I've got at least two hours of reading here. You two go."

"Yeah don't worry about us," Lynne added in a snide tone without looking up from her notes. "We're not caffeine addicts like you, Bobby."

"Man, how did you ever make the switch from Mountain Dew to _coffee?" _Jeremy whined, keeping his voice low as the other library patrons frowned in their direction. "It's downright weird."

"Blame Doug," he said, sliding his books into his messenger bag. "Coffee runs through his veins—"

"Who's Doug?" Renee demanded, eyeing him with some amount of reserve.

"No one," he sighed, pausing to see if she would come.

With a huge sigh she closed her binder and nodded. "Let's go…I need a break."

"Yess!" he hissed, high-fiving Jeremy while Lynne shook her head. "Sure you don't want to come?"

"Positive," they both mouthed, watching with blatant interest at Renee headed toward the doors ahead of Bobby. Their eyes danced in expectation as he saluted, following her with his heart soaring.

He'd wanted to ask her out for a week now, ever since meeting her in the cafeteria. It had been a random moment, Lynne passing her friend and actually introducing him and Jeremy. He loved her dark auburn hair and the way she dressed in skater clothes; there was just something about her that drew him. And now she was going out to coffee with him, unfortunately in his mom's car.

_Oh well, at least I have a car…even if it is shared. _

_**Brenda eyed Doug's vacant and exhausted expression, stepping in front of him to block the way. **_"Let me take her," she whispered, touching his arm. Beneath the sleeve of his shirt she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "You're worn out."

He shot her a look to say she was crazy. "I just got her quieted down," he whispered back before resuming his pacing the length of Katie's room.

"We don't need _you_ getting sick," she hissed. "You haven't slept more than an hour or two. Take a break to change and get a little rest. I can handle her."

When he shook his head she bit her lower lip and decided to take matters into her own hands. Going to his side she reached under Catherine's arms and lifted her from his shoulder. Tucking her close beneath her chin she watched him raise both hands in hopeless surrender, eying his daughter with concern despite the fact that she settled easily into her arms. Katie did open her eyes to stare distractedly up at her, then closed them with a contented sigh.

"It's all right, sweetie," she said softly, kissing her cooling forehead. "You'll let me take care of you—Daddy's tired too."

One look at Doug confirmed the fact that he looked about ready to fall over. For a moment he rubbed his eyes and yawned before turning and shuffling toward the. At the door he half turned.

"Wake me if the fever spikes again," he sighed more than asked.

"Yes sir," she smiled, resuming her slow pacing. She watched as he trudged into his own room, still amazed that something had finally convinced him to go back to sleeping in his own bed. Then again, things had changed a lot since they'd come back from New Mexico.

For one thing, she thought as she gently laid Katie in her crib, no fights had occurred over n the last month. It was as if returning to the hills had bound them even closer together, though it had been a draining experience. Standing over her sleeping form, she made sure Katie settled down before she sat in the chair by her side. They had also somehow gotten through her first birthday without too much trouble, though Doug had been quieter than usual ever since. But their routine continued as it had before, juggling schedules between Doug's job and grad school work, classes and babysitting. But the best thing was the fact that Bobby now had a girl he liked, softening his attitude toward Doug and making him much more understanding of his loss and resultant loneliness. And he'd even stopped complaining to her about the time she spent with Doug. And she had a girl named Renee to thank.

"I just can't seem to be with her enough," Bobby had confessed to her in a rare moment before Doug had come home to pick Katie up. "Renee is great—pretty, sassy, easygoing…great girlfriend material."

Smiling to herself, she remembered the conversation and had chosen to play it cool with him, not pushing for information or nagging him to ask her over. She'd even agreed to share the car, now that Doug had taken it to his mechanic and had the heat fixed. He'd told them they should consider getting another vehicle, which had pleased Bobby no end. Their relationship had improved a lot, and she had to admit that her little brother was finally growing up.

She reached down to gently touch Katie's cool forehead, thankful that the virus was resolving. She suspected it had originated from her playgroup and vowed to keep her home this week. The vomiting had been bad enough, but the fever which followed it was much more frightening. Doug had insisted that kids her age got very high fevers, but when he'd had to spend hours transferring her from cool baths to warm dry linens every few hours even he had looked worried. Several calls to the pediatrician gave them new ammunition, so with alternating two different children's medications they'd managed to keep the spiking fevers down. A few hours ago he'd taken her temperature and rejoiced that it was finally below 100, stating that she was finally getting through it.

For the past three days he'd stayed home to care for her, closing the store to take care of her. She'd tried to help him but he didn't want her or Bobby exposed. At first it had seem a bit overprotective but when he seemed feverish himself she knew it was the right thing to do. Thankfully he hadn't developed any other symptoms aside from fever and headaches.

"Thank God you're better," she whispered, gently stroking her upper back as she slept. "Goodnight, sweetie," she whispered before turning to the chair.

Sitting tiredly in it she leaned her head back, hearing the sound of the shower in his room. The house was quiet as she closed her eyes and listened to Katie's soft breathing. Across the hall she heard Doug moving around in his room and opened her eyes. Eyeing the daybed he'd finally made up as a couch again, she thought of switching it back just to lie down. She was tired, but when she didn't hear him anymore she decided he must have laid down to rest. This was eventually confirmed by a soft groan of pleasure coming from his room, then silence. She glanced out the window, noting the coating of new-fallen snow on the trees, although spring was only a week away.

_Spring…_she thought of him flying to Washington to testify at the sub-committee hearings with a sense of dread. He wanted to take Katie, fully expecting to be gone most of the week. She had offered to help Ceil take care of the baby, but he'd been firm. He was taking Katie, and that was that. And he didn't care that he would have to close the store. _Again._

Ever since the hearing he'd continued to get calls from the DA's office and the sheriff's department, even the FBI a few times. His father was helping him coordinate advice with his lawyer friend, and even the online group had gotten extremely busy due to the other witnesses being called to testify. But Doug's testimony was the weightier, for he'd gone into the test village and confronted the problem head on. She was going to insist upon accompanying him to Washington to help, for even his father had warned against taking Katie. She understood his desire to keep her close, but the hearings were closed and children were definitely not allowed, at least no longer than a brief visit wherein the members of the committee would see just how young she really was.

Staring into his room, she could only see the edge of the bureau and nightstand from where she sat in the nursery. Trying to imagine him lying there, she shook her head at his stubbornness but couldn't blame him for his actions. He just cared too much, and put Katie and them before himself. As far as she knew he'd always been that way, which is why Lynne married him and considered him the best husband in the world. The thought of her sister's gushing praise for Doug used to bore her to tears, but now she smiled sadly. Lynne had been right.

"You were right, sis," she whispered, knowing he couldn't hear her. It was hot in Katie's room, so she pulled off her sweater and closed her eyes, concentrating on the sound of Katie's breathing. No more wheeze or whistle, just soft breathing…no panting or restless sleep…just blessed quiet…and peace…

"_**Brenda please—you have to drink something," **_he ordered, touching her lips with the straw as he held her up with his other arm. "We've got to get your fever down."

"So…tired," she sighed, turning away from the ginger ale. He let her head roll onto his shoulder, half turning to set the cup on the nightstand. But before he could turn back she slipped lower, her limbs weak. He lifted her closer, eyeing the door and praying for strength despite his own weakened state. Then shifted to the edge of her bed and got up, bending over to pick her up. She protested, mumbling something about staying away while she hit his chest with one hand.

"Hey it's me," he said gently, smiling down at her brave but pitiful fight. "I'm gonna help you get better, so don't fight me and make it harder, ok?"

"Doug?" she sighed, whispering something in her delirium. He turned and carried her down the hall and into his room, heading for the shower. Trying to plan the logistics necessary, he sat her on the edge of the cover of the toilet seat and reached in to turn on the water. She sighed and leaned her arm along the edge of the sink, resting her head on her arm. Glancing down at her, he kept one hand under the water, testing the temperature. Not letting it get too cold, he kept it the cold side of lukewarm and then straightened. Taking his glasses off, he placed them on the shelf and faced her, kicking off his slippers.

"Let's go," he ordered, easing off her open pajama top and lifting her against his side. Thankfully she was wearing a fitted tee shirt beneath it and her dorm pants weren't too baggy to weigh her down—he prayed a prayer of thanksgiving that he wouldn't have to remove them. Then, with a sigh of firm resolve he slid the door to the side and backed in, half carrying her with him. She shouted in protest, coming to her senses more fully as the cool water hit them both. Half struggling against his hold she gripped his arm for support as he pressed against her back and held her, facing the spray. Laughing with relief, he felt her give up fighting him and just stand there with his support.

"What'r you doin?" she cried pitifully, lifting her hands to wipe her hair from her face as he held her against him.

"Cooling you off!" he cried out, sputtering against the stream of water. Her fingers dug into his arm but he wouldn't let go, fearing she might slip if forced with supporting herself.

"Ok! Ok—I'm freezing! You satisfied?" she spit daintily, turning suddenly in his arms.

"Woah—hey watch out!" he warned as she slipped. Catching her, he held her close as he reached to shut off the water. Her arms tightened around his waist and he stilled, looking down at her. She lifted her face and opened her eyes, staring up at him with a dazed but happy expression.

"Luv you too," she sighed, leaning forward to rest her cheek upon his sodden tee shirt.

He reached up and gently patted her back, thinking he had to get them dried off. "Come on…Bobby'll be home any minute."

"Sorry you…take care of me…"

"You're not the easiest patient," he told her, glancing down at her lips before he eased her out of the stall. "Careful…"

"You're…terrible patient," she sighed, snagging a towel and lifting it to her face. He steadied her, one arm around her waist as he reached for a bath towel.

"We've got to get you changed," he stated, draping the towel over her shoulders. "Here are some dry clothes."

"I do it…" she said, straightening abruptly and looking up at him. "You go…out."

He removed his arm from her waist and watched her grip the sink edge. "You sure?"

She turned her back and waited. "Ver-y…sure."

He waited outside the closed door after quickly changing himself, draping the wet clothes over the doorknob of the closet. She called his name and he eased the door open all the way. Her arm shot out and gripped his shoulder, but he was amazed that she had changed into a dry loose tee shirt and pajama shorts. She looked up into his eyes, looking as if she was dizzy.

"Help…" she muttered before he bent and scooped her up into his arms. With renewed energy he carried her toward the nursery as she curled her arms around his neck. He shivered at the touch of her lips at the side of his neck, telling himself she didn't know what she was doing. He'd made up the daybed earlier that day, and placed her on top of the comforter. Reaching for the heavy blanket folded at the foot of the bed, he watched her turn and hug the pillow with a contented sigh. Covering her gently, he glanced toward the bed just as Catherine pulled herself to a standing position, watching them. He called her name and started to go to her but Brenda caught his hand and held on.

He smiled down at her, sensing she would start to recover now. "You can let go now," he said gently, glancing toward the crib as Catherine reached out toward her, frowning with concern.

"Bwen-a," she cooed, retracting her hand to grip the railing.

"She's going to be fine," he reassured his daughter, tugging again at his hand. She resisted, twining her fingers around his injured ones.

"You need to sleep," he ordered, tugging again as she protesting softly. Before he realized it she pulled it to her chest, cradling it against her. He dropped his head, resisting the pull of desire her touch elicited.

_It's the fever_ he told himself. _She just needs to know someone cares, _he reasoned, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Unable to fight her, he waited until she drifted off, slowly releasing her grip. He reached up and gently tucked a strand of her hair back from where it had fallen across her cheek. He let his eyes travel over the curve of her cheek and her lips as his heart softened more toward her.

"You're getting better," he said softly. "This is the third day, so it has to leave."

The fever had run its course through Katie's tiny body, claiming Brenda almost as powerfully. For a day it had even teased him until he'd been able to sleep, thanks to Brenda. But had he known it was brewing in her, he never would have let her stay up caring for Katie. It had just cost them too much.

Listening to the gentle sound of her breathing he waited to make sure she was asleep, then slowly got up to pull the rocking chair closer. Sitting heavily, he smiled over at Katie.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart," he whispered, nodding when she sat down and complied. With huge eyes she watched him until she grew tired again. Then resting her head upon her pillow, she spoke softly, talking herself to sleep. He leaned his head back and gave up fighting his own exhaustion, finally his eyes.

_**Brenda awoke suddenly, opening her eyes and trying to get her bearings. **_She was in the nursery, just as she remembered being when she'd fallen asleep. Hearing the sound of breathing, she lifted her head and was surprised to see Doug sitting in the rocking chair. His hands lay limply upon his thighs and his head was turned away. He was wearing a white tee shirt that showed the muscles in his chest, but only enough to tease. Feeling as if she was being watched, she looked up and saw Katie standing there in her crib. Their eyes met and she smiled mischievously, pointing toward her father.

"Datdee sleep," she said softly, giggling as she lifted her arms.

Taking her cue, Brenda pulled herself from the daybed, getting to her feet and for once not feeling dizzy. She waited to be sure she was steady enough before taking a step toward the rocker. Gazing down at him, she decided he looked even younger in his sleep. The tension that usually characterized his expression was absent. His lips were slightly parted, revealing the bottom edge of his white teeth. His hair was in slight disarray, and without his glasses on she could see how long his dark eyelashes were, lying against his high cheekbones. Her eyes traced his soft scraggly beard, wondering how it would feel beneath her fingertips. Suddenly feeling guilty she glanced up, finding Katie's interested gaze on her before she smiled with delight.

"Daddy kiss," she cooed just as he stirred. Brenda gasped, covering her mouth to keep from laughing at her innocent suggestion.

He turned his head and slowly opened his eyes. She was stunned by their sleepy blue haze and stared back as he awoke more fully. The haze began to lift, replaced by a glow of interest in his eyes that she felt all the way down to her toes. His lips lifted toward a smile as he raised a hand, running it down his cheek.

"You're better," he said thickly, holding her gaze. She lowered her hand and nodded, captivated by the sight of him. Something seemed to pull her toward him, but she stood her ground.

"Yes, thanks to you," she replied like a zombie, unable to look away from those eyes.

He stretched a bit before placing his hands on the arms of the chair. Standing stiffly, he stretched up to his full height as she lifted her chin, keeping her eyes locked to his.

"Katie's up already, wanting her supper," she smiled, watching him turn to his daughter. As he turned and reached over to lift her out of the crib, she watched the play of muscles along his back and shoulders, heart pounding slowly with awareness as he turned to face her. Katie rested her cheek upon his collarbone, her eyes wide.

"You really feel better?" he checked, coming toward her. Realizing that she was wearing only a thin tee shirt she reached for her sweater and pulled it on. His eyes followed the movement of her hands before he shifted his attention and smiled lazily down at her. "No more dizziness?"

She shook her head. "I think I can make it," she told him, turning to go to the door. He followed and when she stopped out in the hall he turned and smiled. Katie curled her hands into the hair at the back of his head, leaning close to him.

"You sure?" he said in a husky voice, his eyes shifting to the stairs. "I can come back and carry you down too," he teased, hefting Katie higher against his chest.

"I'm not an invalid," she huffed, feeling hungrier than she'd ever felt before. At her comment his eyes quickly assessed her stance before burning into hers again.

"No," he said thickly, "not anymore." Then he started down the hall.

She followed, gripping the railing as she descended the stairs behind them. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, horrified by the fact that he'd taken care of her while she raged in fever for God only knew how long and in what manner.

"You don't remember?" he teased, waiting with brows raised as she came down to the foyer. "You were pretty weak, and pretty delirious."

"I've never been delirious!" she insisted, reddening as he chuckled and started toward the kitchen.

"Oh yes you were," he insisted, settling Katie in her high chair and pulling it along with him as he headed for the sink. She giggled with delight at the choo-choo sounds he made.

"I never get high fevers or lose my senses," she huffed, reaching into the silverware drawer to set the table.

He started running the cold water for coffee. "Well then you said some pretty bold things in your _right mind_," he said smugly.

She reached past him, swiped up the box of baby cereal and poured some into the bowl. He reached for the coffee and she glanced up at him, snorting in an unladylike fashion.

"You can't fool me," she insisted, "besides that fever makes you so out of it all you can do is mumble incoherently…not say 'bold things.'"

"Ah what you said was definitely not mumbling," he insisted, glancing down at her with a smile. "Who would've thought _you'd_ say those kinds of things?" She punched his upper arm and he laughed, snapping the coffee basket back into place and hitting the brew button.

"I have nothing to be embarrassed about," she insisted, mixing the cereal with formula and setting it into the microwave.

He leaned back against the counter, studying her as she passed before him again to get the coffee mugs. "You're sure about that?"

She placed two mugs onto the counter and pushed back her bangs, drilling him with a challenging look. "Ok you're so knowledgeable about the subject, go ahead—embarrass me with the details."

One brow lifted before he placed a hand on Katie's high chair. "What makes you think the details are embarrassing?" he asked softly, a teasing light in his eyes.

Flustered, she eyed him critically. "_You_ just did—"

"All I did was express my surprise..."

"What surprised you?" she demanded, coming closer to look up at him as he reached up to touch the top of her head.

She caught his hand in mid-air, realizing it was the injured one. Immediately loosening her grip, she nevertheless kept hold of it. "What did you just do?" she asked suspiciously.

He glanced toward the top of her head with a knowing smile. "Just smoothing down a cowlick, that's all."

She gasped at the mere mention of the word. "A cowlick? That's impossible, I don't have cowlicks!"

"Then what's this I see?" he croaked, suppressing a laugh.

"Daddy play!" Katie chirped, clapping her hands as he moved closer, shifting their hands up and behind her head. She struggled, pushing against his chest with her free hand and laughing along with him.

He barked out a laugh and backed her against the counter. "Yeah, Daddy's playing…"

She looked up as they both became aware of their position. Brenda stared into his darkening gaze, vaguely aware that Katie was watching as she chanted softly and jingled the toy keys attached to her chair. But his gaze dropped to her lips, his smile fading as she curled her fingers against his chest. Beneath her fingertips she could feel the heavy thud of his heart and swallowed with difficulty. He lifted his eyes to hers again, their blue fire burning brightly. His brows knit with sudden concern as her breath mixed with his. He began to ease his grip on her hand and she gave in to her feelings.

With a soft sigh of surrender she rose to her toes and gripped the front of his shirt, kissing him on the lips as he sucked in his breath. He froze, his lips slightly parted as she nibbled gently at his lips. He stood immobile, one hand at her waist as his eyes closed. The battle raging inside him was evident.

"Doug," she whispered, sliding her hands up his chest as she lowered herself before him.

His eyes opened and he stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. She felt joy surge up within her as his confused expression told her he was finally processing their feelings for each other for the first time. Something changed in his expression as he lowered his eyes and took a step back. The microwave chirped the end of the heating cycle for Katie's oatmeal and he looked up, staring at her with cool reserve.

She lifted her chin a bit, holding his gaze. "I'm not sorry," she told him.

Deep within her heart she felt a calm assurance that whatever had grown between them was good and right. She watched him swallow before the tip of his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, a gesture he did often and by habit. But now it seemed incredibly sexy, and she had all she could do to keep from staring at his lips.

"I—" he started to say, then closed his mouth. Disappointed, she watched him turn away, sliding Katie's chair back toward the table.

"Doug please—"

"Not now," he ordered softly, and suddenly she understood. _Not in front of the baby…_

Turning around to face the coffeemaker, she lifted the pot out and poured the dark fragrant liquid into the mugs. Reaching for the cream, she added some to hers but left his black, the way he liked it. Carrying them over to the table she set them down, one in front of him where he was seated. He stared at it, as if afraid to look up at her.

"You know I love you," she told him gently, relieved that she'd finally allowed herself to say it. When he didn't move she stared at the top of his head. "I just can't help it..."

He leaned back, spreading his fingers over the table. She stared at his hands, loving the masculine shape and strength of them. Staring at his injured fingers, she pictured herself lifting his hand and kissing them, but of course she couldn't.

"You don't have to say anything and you don't have to love me back," she added, feeling as if another person was speaking with her mouth. She meant it, but had certainly not planned all this… _Especially not the kiss. _"It won't change anything for me," she reassured him.

"Brenda…" he sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry…I don't know what to say."

At his words her eyes filled with tears but she turned and went to the microwave. Taking out the cereal she stirred in a little cool formula and brought it to Katie, who looked up with love in her eyes. Suddenly it didn't matter if he loved her or not—all she wanted from him was to acknowledge her love and that would be enough for now. She'd never felt this way about anyone before, and realized how free it made her feel. She had something she could give, not seek or take or grasp. It felt amazing.

She placed the bowl before Katie, who picked up her spoon and started to eat, her gaze shifting from her father to her. When she sat down opposite him he looked up, finally meeting her gaze with a questioning look.

"What?" she finally asked, hugging her knee to her chest.

"How can you _say _that?" he choked, his expression troubled. "How can it be okay if I say nothing? And how can you not want anything back?"

"Because that's how I feel!"

He was stunned. "You just told me you _love_ me!"

"So there's a problem with that?"

"Hell yeah there is!" he murmured, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not ready for that—surely you can see that."

_I think you are, Doug—you just don't realize it yet. Not really._

She shifted her attention to Katie, whose chin was covered with pasty gray-brown oatmeal. But she smiled radiantly at them, murmuring something as she ate.

"Look at her," she breathed, resting her chin upon her kneecap. "Love is that simple for her."

He pursed his lips. "She's just a baby."

She looked back into his eyes. "But she still loves you, and she expects nothing back."

"But I show her my love anyway," he stated, shaking his head. "It's not the same thing."

She narrowed her gaze on him, not in the least bit threatened by his confusion. "Then I can wait."

He met her gaze. "You don't have to wait for someone like me."

"I want to."

"I don't deserve your love."

"That has nothing to do with it."

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't even know how I feel about this…or about anything."

"I'm not expecting you to know," she reassured him, smiling to herself. "But I did like what just happened over there by the sink."

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back.

"Didn't you?" she dared to whisper to him.

He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. "I couldn't help it either," he admitted.

Before his expression changed back to guarded she reached for his hand. "I don't want you to help it."

He sighed in frustration, shaking his head. "It's too soon."

She released his hand and slowly got up. Bending over to kiss the top of Katie's head, she hugged her a moment before going to his side. Reaching out, she touched his shoulder and bent to kiss his cheek.

"I better get ready," she sighed, leaving them to their breakfast and Doug to his thoughts.

Climbing the stairs, she listened to Katie's squeal of exclamation, then Doug's deep voice answering her. She felt at peace and despite his reaction excited for the future for the first time in years. She'd done it—she'd finally told him how she felt about him. Now it was up to him what to do next.

"And I will wait for you," she said under her breath, "for as long as it takes."

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt_


	19. Chapter 19 The Trip

_**Chapter 19 The Trip**_

_**Doug stared at the painting in the dim light shining from the hall, **_his head aching and his heart numb. He'd been sitting in the dark ever since putting Katie to bed, ignoring the rings of both phones and text messages pinging his cell. He could hear the gusts of wind howling and flinging drops of rain against the panes, making him feel even more isolated and lonely. Reaching up, he rubbed both temples before dropping his hands back to his lap. Then he resumed the staring contest with his wife, studying the brushstrokes which so lovingly portrayed her and their daughter.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, staring at Lynne's likeness.

_And so is your sister._

Closing his eyes at the thought of Brenda, he could still feel her lips moving over his, sparking an inferno of desire which further tortured him. Emotions churned within him, warring for his soul—grief, joy, guilt, loneliness and desire. It had been nine months since he'd lost Lynne, yet still he hadn't managed to adjust very well. Yet with her kisses Brenda had taken a bold step away from the intersection where their lives had stalled to lead the way down a road he longed to take but couldn't bring himself to begin.

"God help me," he moaned, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands. Bracing his elbows upon his knees he felt a wave of grief wash over him again. After some time he looked up, eyeing Lynne's smiling likeness and swallowing the lump in his throat. _I miss you so much…_

Then he saw Brenda's face in his mind, the gentle light of love in her eyes which had burned a hole in his heart. He was torn, and he knew he couldn't go on like this…none of them could. He had to make a decision he didn't want to make. And he had to make it soon.

"Tell me what to do," he asked the painting, feeling the sudden overwhelming presence he'd come to rely upon. Closing his eyes again he waited, listening to the silence in the house and the distant howl of the wind. But he had no sense of what the answer might be.

He leaned back exhausted, resting his head on the sofa as he sifted through the possible choices before him. The facts were that Lynne was gone and wasn't coming back, Catherine needed a mother and Brenda was in love with him. He also was forced to admit that he'd wanted Brenda's kiss that morning, though the realization made him feel guilty. But how could he be faithful to Lynne when she'd left him?

Groaning, he shot to his feet and began to pace, shifting his attention to his daughter. In the painting her upturned gaze was a clear indication that she was just as lonely as he was without a mother. But Brenda had been her mother all this time, and that would never change.

"You wanna tell me what to do?" he demanded, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he paced. "You've told me what to do before, why not now? Look at me God! I've tried so hard to do the right thing the best way I knew! Look at me, Lynne—what am I supposed to do? You left me and know what? I'm not making it without you! Plus our little girl needs a mother too, whether we like it or not!"

All the restless tension churned inside him as he began to hear the familiar accusations run through his mind like a broken record. _What kind of husband falls in love again so soon? And even more outrageous, he falls in love with his dead wife's sister! Who knows if there wasn't something going on between them all along? And even if there wasn't it's scandalous, the two of them practically living together under the same roof and spending so much time alone!_

Then he could hear his father's and aunt's voices blending into the confusion. _You should marry again, son—you're a young man with a baby to raise and Brenda's a sweet girl who trusts you. Make a commitment, for all your sakes, and who knows? Someday you may even fall in love with her. Lynne was a smart girl, and it's crazy to think she'd mind! _

_Douglas, you're not doing so well on your own,_ Ceil's words echoed in his mind. _I know that before I said you should wait a year, but what do I know? Brenda loves Catherine like her own daughter and she'd be good for you—who better could you marry? Really it makes perfect sense, instead of you trying to exist and manage all alone in that house of yours. Which by the way your father and I think you should sell but all in due time. What's important now is that you and the baby find all the comfort and support you need. _

Slowing to a standstill he suddenly saw himself with perfect clarity. "God help me," he croaked, raising a hand to his head. Turning away from the painting he stared at the couch, remembering how he and Brenda had horsed around pretending he was a troll while Bobby scored points on his video game.

"That's it," he whispered, shaking his head in wonder. "I'm in love with two women at the same time." Spreading his hands wide, he looked heavenward and pleaded for guidance. "Tell me what to do?"

_**Bobby closed the congressional, Army and Energy websites and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. **_He now had a better handle on what might happen when Doug left for D.C. in the morning. It was going to be brutal, he realized and in a way he wanted to go with him just to offer his support. He worried about Doug, who didn't look good at all lately. He'd been working like crazy pouring over legal documents and articles well into the night just to prepare himself for the hearings. He and Brenda had tried to help with the research, agreeing that it made more sense for Doug to stay at their house until he had to leave. That way they could help him with Katie, copy articles for him and make sure he remembered to eat. It was draining for all of them, and he couldn't wait until the whole thing was over and they could get on with their lives.

Getting up he stretched, glancing at the clock and heading for the hall bathroom before he turned in. Stepping over the sleeping Beast he glanced toward the guest room at the opposite end of the hall. The light was on in there, and as he paused he heard Doug's soft curse as what sounded like a stack of papers fell to the floor. He remembered how Lynnie would often shake her head at her husband's quirky ways and absent-mindedness, saying "geniuses are messy" and that they deserve our support because "they don't really live in the real world." He could see her twinkling eyes and the love she had for Doug, feeling a pang of longing for his big sister. Pushing it away, he started toward the room to see if he could help. Passing Lynne's darkened room he stopped and leaned against the door jamb to watch Doug gather a pile of papers that lay strewn over the floor. His back was to the door and the tail of his shirt had pulled out. Glancing at the desk, he saw that for once it was actually tidy. The bed was turned down but at its foot lay an overnight bag.

"What happened?" he asked, startling Doug.

"Whoa!" he gasped, reaching out to steady himself before he rose from a crouched position, papers in both hands. "Man you startled me!"

"Sorry!" he hissed, glancing over his shoulder and hoping they didn't wake the baby. "I saw your light and wanted to check on you."

"Oh, thanks," he breathed, stepping toward the desk and straightening the papers into one stack. "You're up kind of late, even for you."

"Yeah, well I'm turning in," he sighed, relieved that the floor was clean. "You need anything?"

"Me? I'm fine," Doug answered, eyeing him suspiciously. "Why?"

He shrugged. "No reason…so you leaving early?"

"At 5:30," he stated, turning to place a small notebook by his overnight bag. "You know I don't need a keeper, Bobby."

"You need a crew of keepers," he shot back, smiling as Doug whirled around to glare at him. "Seriously, dude."

He planted his hands on his hips. "I'm busy, that's all. You try facing a congressional sub-committee on Army Affairs and Civilian Safety."

He shrugged again, pulling away from the jamb and stepping into the room. "You'll do fine."

"Everybody keeps saying that," he sighed in frustration, shaking his head.

"That's because it's true," he insisted, extending his hand. "Well I guess this is goodbye for now."

Doug hesitated, then stepped forward and clasped his hand. Bobby was always amazed at the grip Doug had, even though he was at least four inches shorter. They shook and he nodded, feeling embarrassed. Though he was taller he was not well-built like Doug. And when he suddenly grabbed him in a bear hug he felt even worse. Thankful that it only lasted a few seconds he smiled awkwardly, ashamed by the way he'd treated him all this time.

"You take care of your sister, all right?" Doug said in an even deeper voice than usual. To Bobby he almost looked embarrassed too, making him wonder why. "I'm depending on you, man."

"Yeah, sure," he agreed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Katie too…you're gonna miss her I bet."

"I will, but they won't let me bring her," he sighed in frustration. "Hopefully it'll only be a day or two."

_I don't think so, _he thought even as he nodded in agreement. "Well break a leg, or whatever."

Doug smiled as he nodded. "Get some rest."

"Yeah, you too," he said, turning to go to the bathroom. "See you when you get back."

_**Brenda stood in the semi-darkness, smiling at the sight of him. **_He lay in an uncomfortable-looking position, his face turned into the juncture of the arm and back of the couch. She stared at the angle of his right arm where it bent from the elbow, then at the bare skin beneath his open collar where his shirt had twisted in his sleep. In the dim light from the reading lamp he'd left on she could see where the base of his neck met his collarbone and the scar where he'd been knifed. Feeling a cold dread in the pit of her stomach, she hugged herself and gazed at his slightly parted lips. Listening to the even sound of his breathing she remembered the warmth and softness of those lips beneath hers, though they had not responded to her kisses.

_You have an iron will, don't you? _she thought, liking the appealingly way his hair was mussed in his sleep. It made her want to gently brush it off his temple, though she wouldn't dare. But long ago he'd let her wash it for him and had responded to her touch. Shaking herself mentally, she noted that his glasses were nowhere to be seen, so she knew he'd put his contacts in. But she suspected he'd left them in too long, judging by the way he often lost track of time and even days. Her eyes traveled down the length of his body, passing the tiny area of skin exposed just above his belt where his shirt had pulled up and stopping at the taut muscles of his thigh. There the fabric of his pants strained over its surface, and it looked muscular and fine. He was strong and virile, something which in other men threatened her now, but not Doug. Setting aside such thoughts, she shifted her attention to the tip of his Gold Toe sock adjacent to the tiny green light of his laptop, which glowed in the dark. Then she remembered her mission and took a step toward him.

Feeling inordinately nervous she worried about the best way to wake him, hating the fact that she had to. She knew he'd been up very late but judging by the piles of books and papers covering the coffee table and stacks of journals and papers on the floor, he was probably more than well prepared. She studied the pile of half-opened and clipped journals at his side, studying the precisely written notes he'd made in the college-ruled spiral notebook that had fallen from his lap. At the table by his side stood a mug of half-finished tea, ignored and grown cold. As well as the plate of the half-eaten sandwich she'd made Bobby carry in to him hours before.

He stirred suddenly and she shot her gaze to his face, holding her breath. His foot jerked a bit and within seconds he lifted his head and stared up at her in dazed confusion. Blinking with difficulty, he swallowed and half rose up to balance on his left elbow. His foggy gaze took in her presence without any sense of surprise.

"Your alarm just went off," she explained to his bemused expression, embarrassed for having studied him while he slept unaware.

"Oh…sorry," he breathed, glancing toward the stairway with what looked like a stiff neck.

"Don't worry, it didn't wake Katie," she reassured him, fighting a sudden yawn.

"I can't believe I left it on," he croaked, his voice husky with sleep. "Sorry it woke you up."

"It's alright," she sighed, eyeing the mess of paperwork, "you work too hard—you know that."

He ran a hand over his scraggly beard. "Last thing I remember is pouring over copies of the Federal Register."

She laughed softly. "That'll put anyone to sleep."

He shifted his legs, plangent his feet on the carpet. He shifted his elbow to his knee and leaned his head on his hand. "God—I feel like I just drifted off! What time is it?"

"About 4:30," she yawned, stretching her shoulders up, "that's a.m."

He eyed the hem of her oversized robe where her bare toes peeked out and looked up. "I did plan on going to bed early," he confessed. "Guess I got too caught up in the reading to notice the time."

"You were exhausted," she reasoned, glancing toward the light that shone on the hall rug. "When does your van come?"

"In an hour," he stated, reaching down to gather up the journals on the floor. "I'd better get moving."

"Can I help?"

He glanced up with a genuine smile. "No thanks—go back to bed."

"I'm fine," she said, waving a hand. "I went to bed early and once I'm up I usually can't go back."

"Now I feel even worse," he stated, glancing up at her again as he reached for his laptop. "I don't know why I would set the alarm and come back down here to work."

"Because the guest room is too small to work in," she sighed, crossing her arms over her waist. "I don't know why you're working so hard—you handled yourself so well in New Mexico...everybody was raving about you."

"This is _Congress _we're talking about," he replied, glancing up with a hesitant smile. "Not quite the same thing."

"You'll be fine," she reassured him, turning to leave. "I'll make some coffee."

"Listen, Brenda," he stopped her as he zipped his laptop bag. She turned to face him again. "I really appreciate your watching Catherine—hopefully I'll only be gone a day or two."

"I love watching her," she said softly, gazing up at him as he stood. "You know that."

"Well, she loves being with you too," he said softly, his eyes holding hers. He hesitated, and in that moment she sensed he was remembering the kiss she'd given him. Which he'd still not dealt with.

They stared at each other while she wished the light was good enough to see into his eyes. She felt the pull of attraction between them again, though he was obviously fighting it.

_He still loves Lynni_e, she realized. And he still grieved for her, bearing a heavy weight of guilt for not having been able to protect her. That much she knew without a doubt. And she loved him even more for it.

"I'd better make that coffee," she said absently, feeling the strong magnetic pull toward him even as she fought the urge to reach out and touch him. He pursed his lips and nodded, breaking the spell.

"I'll take a shower, if that's ok."

"Of course," she answered, "this is your home too."

He smiled crookedly, alleviating some of the tension between them. "By now you probably feel like throwing me out, I'm here so often."

She tilted her head to one side. "We're getting used to you, even though you _are_ kind of messy," she added, glancing toward the pile of papers.

"I picked up," he smiled proudly as she waved a hand in dismissal.

"Bobby's worse than you'll ever be," she added, nodding toward the stairs. "Better get going, in case the van's early."

She watched him rush toward the stairs, climbing them easily and heading to the guest room. As she headed into the kitchen she imagined him assembling a change of clothing before he headed for her parents' bedroom to use the shower. She and Bobby had avoided the room, but she thought it must be even more awkward for Doug to go in there and use the shower. But the only other shower was in the bathroom next to her room, now claimed as her territory. No, he definitely wouldn't want to go in there, she decided. Bobby used the downstairs one, but had not offered it to Doug. As she drew the water and began to fill the basket with ground coffee, she paused, listening for the sound of the water in the pipes and trying not to picture him taking a shower in her parents' bathroom.

_**Turning on the light, he draped his clothes over the towel rail **_and reached in to turn on the water. As the hot water warmed up he took out a towel from the closet and quickly stripped off the clothes he'd slept in. Checking the temperature and increasing the hot, he stepped in and stood under the spray with a sigh of relief. For a few moments he enjoyed its cleansing warmth before he lathered up and washed himself. Blindly reaching for the shampoo, he washed his hair and rinsed thoroughly, then switched the shower head to massage. Turning his head, he directed the spray onto his stiff neck and closed his eyes while it pounded at the stiff muscles. He vowed to make sure never to fall asleep like that again, sprawled out in their living room when he had a perfectly good bed in the upstairs guest room. He didn't need to disturb Brenda or awake to find her standing over him.

With that thought he shut off the water and reached for a towel. Drying himself off, he dressed quickly and on his way back to his room he looked in on Catherine. The nursery was warm and blessedly quiet as he entered. Leaning over he kissed her cheek, reaching out to gently touch her hair. Staring down at her sleeping form he felt the pain of their upcoming separation, still angry that they'd denied her access to the hearings. He'd wanted to bring her along and Brenda had agreed to take a separate room just to take care of her while he was in the meetings, but the chairman had denied his request. Apparently he believed they had ample evidence of Catherine's young age and photographs of her to submit if necessary. He gripped the railing and fought the pain of leaving her.

"Guess this is goodbye, sweetheart," he whispered, taking a deep breath and pulling himself away. Telling himself that she'd be fine, he went into the guest room, picked up his garment and overnight bags and started down the stairs. He sniffed at the delicious aroma of brewing coffee, placing his things on the chair in the hall as he checked his tickets again.

"You ready?" Brenda asked, appearing and holding out a cup of coffee for him. He watched her interested gaze flit over him and forced a smile.

"Yeah, thanks," he replied, taking the coffee and drinking a few gulps. Headlights flickered past the windows and he glanced out to see the van pull into the driveway. "You were right—they're early."

"I knew it," she sighed, setting down her mug next to his. "Now don't worry about anything—just have a safe trip. And good luck with your testimony."

"Thanks," he sighed, pulling on his jacket and patting the pocket where he'd stuffed his tickets and boarding pass. "Call me or text if you need anything—"

"Only if you promise to call every night when you're finished," she insisted.

"Alright," he nodded, unbolting the lock and pulling open the door. He bent to pick up his bag and slung the garment bag over his arm. Stepping out onto the porch, he glanced back at her wistful expression.

She gripped her robe tighter and smiled up at him, holding the door open with her body. The porch light lit her hair with golden highlights as she smiled up at him, her eyes soft.

"Call when you get there?" she asked softly.

"I will," he nodded, forcing a smile he didn't feel. "Be safe."

She leaned toward him, touching his arm. "Take care," she said before kissing his cheek. He froze as she smiled sheepishly and stepped back.

"You too," he croaked before turning away. He felt her gaze following him as he strode toward the van and opened the door. Placing his bags inside first, he climbed in and shut the door.

She lifted her hand and waved, her face beaming. "Bye honey!" she called just loud enough for him to hear, her impish expression teasing. He remembered the day she'd said that in place of her sister after he'd asked Lynne to get his jacket for him. Brenda had been the one to answer, making a joke which was the same but which sounded less mocking now. Though it reminded him of the last day he'd spent with Lynne.

He lifted his hand in farewell, watching her drop her arm. They backed out and turned to leave as she slipped back into the house, closing the door. Starting off, he leaned back with a sigh of exhaustion. Glancing up at the rear view mirror, he met the driver's waiting gaze.

"Bet _she's_ a hard one to leave," he said knowingly, making him even more uncomfortable.

"No, you don't under—"

"_My _wife didn't even get up to see me off this morning," he continued, his eyes returning to the road, "so consider yourself one lucky man!"

He increased the speed so much that he didn't bother to respond. Thankful that he was the only passenger in the van he relaxed when the driver raised the volume of the radio. The morning news came on and he stared out the window. The warm dark interior of the van was strangely soothing, but he couldn't seem to get his mind off Brenda.

He could still feel the touch of her lips upon his cheek, teasing him without her intending to. She'd looked so lovely and smelled so good, the soft lavender fragrance of her hair staying on his mind. He was forced to face the fact that all these qualities in combination caused his growing awareness of her as a woman to only build. For some time he'd had difficulty picturing her as his sister-in-law, and technically this was no longer the case in their relationship. He tried making small talk with the driver, trying to concentrate on anything but her, but found it more and more difficult to do so.

He'd done what he could, trying to adjust to living alone again. He'd driven himself to exhaustion and spent as much time with Catherine as possible to distract him from his craving for the comfort of a woman's touch. His memories of Lynne grew more distant while new memories of her sister grew stronger. Closing his eyes, he remembered the feel of her hands in his hair when she'd washed it for him at the hotel after they'd been released by the colonel. She'd done so out of compassion, and he'd received it that way. In that moment he'd recognized the power of touch, and in the depths of his grief and loneliness he'd only craved it more. He knew that it was too soon to allow any change in their relationship. Besides that Brenda was still be in a very fragile state. Yet even as he thought them he realized they were partially just excuses. Whether he liked it or not, he had to face reality. They were attracted to each other and that attraction was growing every day. But it was more complicated than that, for he also had to think about Catherine and Bobby as well.

They slowed and pulled up to a large house in the next suburb as an older couple lifted their bags and came toward the van. The driver got out to help them, and once they'd settled into the van they continued on their way to the airport. The man shook his hand while his wife announced their plans for a family reunion, and he smiled as he listened, grateful for the distraction.

"_**So, how was your first day before Congress?" **_she breathed into the phone after they'd covered all the details. Katie was fine, Bobby was busy with midterms and ready for spring break, and she was getting ready to go off spring break and back to classes.

"Intense," he huffed. "Hold on a second."

She heard music in the background before he turned it off. _Classical music. _

"As it turns out, I wasn't as well prepared as I should have been," he replied.

"Why not?" she wondered, running a fingertip along the etchings of the bracelet he'd given her. "You seemed really well prepared."

"Yeah well no one told me I'd be forced to sit for an indeterminate number of hours with a microphone in my face and every eye in the place on me," he clarified. "I was there for 10 hours."

She winced. "That is intense—didn't you get a break?"

"Actually we had two hours for lunch and an hour for dinner but they were working meals, believe me."

"They probably don't consider those details important."

"No, I suppose then don't but enough about me—how are you doing babysitting the last week of your break?"

"I told you not to worry about that," she reassured him. "If you must know Alex, Missy and I took Katie with us to the mall—she had a ball!"

"Really…"

"Yes, she walked in the play area and laughed with the other kids, but mostly she just chilled in her stroller while we all shopped."

"Girls day at the mall," he chuckled, his voice vibrating into her very being. "Wish I'd been there."

"Ah no you wouldn't have wanted to be," she teased, "unless you like make-up counters and shoe stores."

"On second thought you're right," he admitted. "I'll take a bookstore and Brookstone's any day."

"I'll have to remember that," she mused, trying to picture what he was doing while they talked. "By the way, was that classical music I heard being piped in from somewhere?"

"Ah no," he breathed, sounding like he was shifting positions. "I'm sitting in an overstuffed chair in my room, watching the lights of the city...it's actually a great view."

"Now I'm jealous," she breathed, leaning her head back. "Katie's sleeping soundly in her room and Bobby's out with his friends."

"Friends? You mean, what's her name—Renee?"

"You remembered…I'm proud of you, Doug."

"If I didn't remember Bobby'd make me live to regret it."

"I'm sure he would, but no—I don't think he's worked up the courage to ask her out though she seems like a nice girl."

"Ah, the first date," he moaned, "awkward…"

She heard him drink something and decided to tease him some more. "Are you drinking scotch?"

"No, it's coffee!" he huffed. "You know I don't drink."

"Then what was that light beer I saw you with—"

"I mean the hard stuff," he interrupted. "Once in a while I do have a beer—it's a guy thing."

"I'm sure it is," she said quietly, awash with guilt for all the drinking she'd done the past two years of college. _How could I have wasted my time and my health that way?_

"Let's just hope your brother stays hooked on Mountain Dew instead."

"That's for sure, and I'm glad you're not using alcohol to drown your misery."

"Yeah well it's not that I haven't been tempted to," he admitted, and she heard the frustration in his voice. "To be honest, Brenda, if it weren't for Katie and you two I'm afraid of what I might have done, after everything that's happened."

She paused, treasuring the intimacy of his words as long as she could. "You know it wouldn't have helped."

"Yeah, I know…look why don't we change the subject?" he suggested, his voice a bit hoarse. "What are you doing right now?"

"Talking to you."

"I realize that, what else?"

"Sketching in the family room." I know you've been listening to classical music."

"I was—the speakers aren't that great on the in-room clock radio."

"I thought you liked rock, like Bobby."

"I do but classical is soothing…I like different kinds of music—so what's on your iPod, Brenda Carter?"

She laughed softly. "I'll let you use it sometime…you don't even have one, do you?"

"No, can't say that I do," he sighed. "Too old …you know, the CD generation."

"Yeah, you're a real old fogey."

"To be honest, I feel pretty ancient right now."

"You feel ancient all the time, and you're not even 30."

"Pathetic, isn't it?" he chuckled softly. "Well, it's getting late and they're coming for me at 7."

"Wait, not yet! You're the only adult I have to talk to these days."

"But I have to meet the legal team for breakfast."

"Oh, that sounds painful...your father told me the reason for the closed session is that allowing the public to know what's going on would be a threat to national security."

"It would be, finding out that the Army's not really in control."

"And covering up their mistakes," she sighed.

"Exactly…"

She stretched out on the sofa, missing him. "When are you coming home?"

"I'm not sure yet," he admitted. "I have a flight booked for late Wednesday night."

"That's three days already!"

"Yeah well there's nothing I can do about it, except hope they don't make it a longer stay."

"I hope not…"

She listened to the companionable silence, wanting to tell him so much more.

"I miss Katie, and you and Bobby," he admitted softly.

"Same here… Katie cried when she realized you weren't going to read to her before bed tonight."

"Oh…God I hate this," he sighed.

"I know," she nodded, gripping the phone. "Sorry I told you—I don't want to make it any harder on you."

"Well it is…you know I miss you, too."

She held her breath. _He misses me!_ "I miss you more."

After a moment he spoke. "Look, Brenda I know I've been terrible to you—"

"No, you haven't."

"I have," he insisted. She could hear the change in his tone, which had grown husky. The sound of it sent tiny shivers down the back of her neck. "I want to talk about it when I get back, okay?"

She nodded, not realizing he couldn't see. "Okay."

"And I'll try to call you tomorrow around lunchtime."

"…it's a poor substitute," she dared saying.

He sighed heavily. "I agree…look I've got to turn in so I'll say goodnight."

"Goodnight," she breathed, "call us when you can."

"I will."

She waited until after he'd hung up before cutting the connection. She sat deep in thought for some time, finally pulling herself from the couch. Slowly climbing the stairs, she paused at the top and glanced toward the guest room. Glancing down the hall toward Bobby's empty room, she headed to Doug's temporary room but paused before going in.

_Dare I?_ she wondered, glancing at the tidy surroundings but spotting a tee shirt left slung over the chair. He'd made the bed and piled his texts and files neatly on top the desk. She went in, turning on the lamp and opening the thick and frayed binder on top. Slowly turning the pages she studied the typed lines and scribbled notes in the margins. There were red proofing marks throughout, and the entire document must have been over 100 pages. Returning to the title page, she saw a blank line, then his name and the professor's below it.

"It's nearly finished," she marveled, touching the binder that held his dissertation and smiling sadly. "And you still don't have a title…"

She closed it, staring at the cover in awe of his knowledge and capability. "Lynne would be so proud," she breathed, absently lifting the tee shirt to her nose. It held a faint reminder of his scent, one that was uniquely his. Closing her eyes, she felt her heart melt for him and gave in to her loneliness.

"I miss you so much," she whispered, trying to keep from crying for her sister and for falling in love with Doug. After some time she reached over and turned off the lamp. Walking into Lynnie's room she stared at the feminine décor and swiped at the tears wetting her cheek.

"I miss you too," she choked, moving to the bulletin board where Lynne still had her high school photo and engagement photo tacked up. She sat down on the edge of the bed, holding Doug's worn tee shirt in her lap. "I've tried so hard not to, Lynnie," she confessed, "but I've fallen in love with him too."

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt_


	20. Chapter 20 Without Words

_**Chapter 20 Without Words**_

_**Doug stared at the carved letters of Lynne's name, **_birthday and date of death. The pain of losing her assailed him every time he came here, though by now he'd managed to steel himself against it at least until he was alone. Every week he'd come here with Katie, never admitting it to Brenda or Bobby, but today seemed different somehow. With the hearings behind him and the matter in the hands of the governments involved, he felt the healing touch of a spring breeze upon his face. Looking up at the huge white clouds drifting lazily overhead, he felt something poke his eye, making it water. Reaching up to push his hair away, he vowed to give up on contact lenses and go back to his glasses. It was his ophthalmologist's idea that he wear them, though glasses protected his eyes much better and were so much easier to deal with. It was true the contact lenses provided better distance vision but somehow they seemed to attract every heretofore unknown speck of dust or particle which then lodged against his corneas and caused intense pain. Not to mention the fact that he usually forget to carry wetting drops with him and to clean them on a daily basis. But life was just too stressful and busy to deal with all the added trouble.

Katie chose that moment to reach up and thread her fingers into his hair. Blinking as the wetness cleared, he saw her sober expression and his heart fell.

"Bwen-ah," she cried softly, glancing over to where Brenda and Bobby stood at their parents' graves. Gently patting her back, he eyed his daughter with the serious stare that usually made her laugh, but not today.

"Brenda's busy right now," he said gently, taking her tiny hand in his for reassurance. "She's right over there, sweetheart."

"Wan Bwen-ah," she murmured, fidgeting against his hold.

"I know, and I also know you're tired," he sighed, gazing toward what she wanted. "We'll leave soon."

She wined softly, her voice nasal from the pollen irritating her sinuses. He pursed his lips, knowing there was more to her fussiness that the need for a nap. Ever since he'd returned from D.C. she'd tolerated him for only a few minutes before wanting Brenda. Even at the airport she'd clung to Bobby when she couldn't have Brenda, pretty much ignoring him, her own father. For the past day whenever he'd hold her she'd studied him as if he was a stranger. Telling himself that it was just separation anxiety and that it would wear off soon, he still couldn't help taking it personally.

_Could a 15 month old child hold a grudge?_

He bent his head to kiss her cheek. "Daddy loves you very much," he whispered, hugging her close. "I missed you so much when I was away."

She looked up at him, her face crinkling in confusion. He nodded toward Brenda. "Brenda's putting flowers out for Grandma now, so she's a little busy."

He turned so that she could see as Brenda bent down and placed the large bouquet of flowers she'd brought upon her mother's grave. He noted the tiny violets already adorning the base of the headstone, wondering when she'd planted them. Glancing down at Lynne's grave, he studied the single yellow rose he'd placed there for his wife and wondered if something more permanent should be planted there as well. Making a mental note to ask Brenda about it later, he watched Bobby kneel at his father's grave and place a different bouquet there. His eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses but his mouth had a pinched look about it. Doug recognized his lingering anger, having felt it himself often enough. Then Bobby got up, took a step back and bent his head to say something to his sister.

"Time to go," he whispered to Catherine, reaching into his pocket and taking out the small green and white stone he'd brought. Turning to set it atop Lynne's headstone, he sighed with resignation. "Rest in peace my love," he whispered before turning to leave.

At their approach Brenda looked up, smiling as she swiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Katie reached out toward her and she obliged, taking her from him. He nodded soberly to Bobby, taking two more stones from his pocket and placing them, one on each of their of parents' headstones. Bobby nodded in satisfaction, which surprised him.

"Thanks, man," he said hoarsely, slapping his back as they stared toward the car.

"You don't mind?" he replied, glancing at Brenda as they walked side by side.

"'Course not," Bobby shrugged. "It's your thing, so it's fine with me."

"Well good," he stated, appreciating the irony of their situation. He noted Catherine's contented smile now that Brenda held her, feeling alienated from his own daughter. He was still dealing with his own resentment toward the committee's insistence on detaining him. He'd been forced to stay the whole week, realizing now how much it had cost him.

At that moment Brenda looked up, meeting his gaze. He nodded as he reached into his pocket for the keys. Hitting the button he unlocked the doors as they came up to the car. Opening the back door for her, he waited as she kneeled onto the back seat and put Katie into her car seat. Glancing up at the beautiful blue sky, he thought of Lynne, hoping she'd made it to a much better place that the world they now inhabited. Feeling a hand on his arm, he glanced down at her sister.

"She's just tired," Brenda said softly.

"I hope you're right," he sighed as Bobby opened the front passenger door.

"Can I ride shotgun?" he asked meekly, his eyes challenging.

"I'll sit with Katie," Brenda offered, nodding toward her brother. "His legs are too long for the back anyway."

"Damn right," Bobby agreed, watching him expectantly. "I'd ask to drive if I thought you'd give me the chance."

"I'm driving," he shot back, watching Bobby climb in. Brenda slid in next to Catherine before he shut her door and then got in himself. Glancing back at his daughter, he noted the improvement in her mood, which only made him grumpier. Turning around he started the car, secured his seat belt and switched on the fan to cool the interior.

"She'll be asleep before long," Brenda predicted as he squinted into the glare of the sun and reached for the sunglasses.

They started off, driving in subdued silence past rows of stones and monuments and feeling the weight of grief which permeated the place. Forcing himself to stay at the 15 mph limit when he really wanted to burn rubber to get out of here, he reached up to loosen his collar. Just coming here made him feel like he was choking. They had to come back again in a few months for the unveiling, when Lynne's headstone would be commemorated at the one year anniversary of her death. Which he was not looking forward to.

"How old were you when your mom died?" Bobby asked suddenly, turning to stare at him like a hawk when he didn't reply.

"That's kind of a random question," Brenda sighed from the back.

He looked up to see that she was staring out her window. Pursing his lips and not wanting to go there, he answered anyway. "Fifteen—why?"

"Even younger than me," Bobby breathed, shaking his head. "How'd you do it, man?"

"Do what?"

"You know, survive," Bobby stated, finally looking at him, "handle it mentally?"

He concentrated on taking the right fork through the maze of turns he'd finally memorized. "I don't really know…just tried to make it through each day."

"So, you just went with the flow?"

"Didn't know what else to do," he admitted, glancing at him. "It's different for everyone, though—that much I have figured out."

Bobby glanced back at Brenda, who said nothing. Risking his own backward glance he saw how she kept Catherine's hand in hers, though his daughter had fallen to sleep in her car seat.

"Good to have you back," Bobby stated, staring out his window again.

He maneuvered the car past a riding mower toward the main road up ahead. "It's good to be back."

"Are you staying tonight, since the paparazzi are camped out at your place?" Brenda asked, her eyes suddenly in the rear view mirror.

"What?" he shot back, holding her gaze and seeing Bobby hit himself on the forehead.

"Oh man, I forgot all about that!"

"What paparazzi?" he demanded, glancing from Brenda's eyes to Bobby's. "When were you going to tell me?"

"But your dad called to say they've staked out your house," she said in mortification. "We just assumed he'd told you?"

"Ah no, he neglected to say anything about that," he groaned. "When did he call?"

"On Thursday," she said in disbelief. "He said he went to check your house and found them there."

"Thursday—but how could they know about me?" he croaked in rising panic. "All the meetings have been closed sessions!"

"I can't believe he didn't tell you!" she gasped, her expression sympathetic.

"They're probably still there, waiting for you," Bobby warned, shaking his head. "Thank God they didn't find out about _our_ house."

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Why didn't anyone tell me this sooner?"

"Oh don't worry man," Bobby breathed. "Your dad said he was going to report it to the police."

"Great—that's all I need!" he shot back, shaking his head. "I need to get home right away."

"Easy, man," Bobby soothed. "Just stay with us, like you've been doing."

"That was before the hearings!" he shot back, trying to control his temper.

"Ok, ok!" Bobby hissed, raising his hands in surrender. "Don't shoot the messenger!"

"I'm sorry—it's just that I'm just a little freaked out right now. I can't afford to have the baby exposed to their craziness."

"Then stay with us," Brenda urged. "They'll give up when they realize there's no story."

"But how did they get my name? The FBI assured me it wouldn't be made public," he said, feeling as if his privacy had just become a thing of the past. "And now there'll be a full blown investigation to make matters worse."

"Which is why you can't go back there," Brenda emphasized, eyeing him in the mirror.

He shook his head. "I have to go back, and I've got to go now."

_**She glanced at the clock again, wondering where he was.**_ He'd called three hours ago to report in, and she'd put him on speaker phone so that Bobby could hear too. The tension in his voice had been palpable when he'd described returning home to find news vans in his driveway and cars parked around the block. Somehow he'd managed to push through them all and get inside, but despite his repeated "no comment"s they'd stayed until his call to the police brought several cruisers around and managed to disperse the crowd. But later he noted several unmarked cars parked along the street with people sitting inside. To make matters worse his neighbors had joined the crowd when he'd driven in, making sure he knew of their desire for him to move away so they could all have some peace and quiet.

But as to what had happened after that, she had no clue. After playing with Katie for an hour she found herself left with nothing to do but worry. So when the phone rang she rushed to snatch it up.

"Doug?" she cried into the receiver, hearing Abe's voice instead.

"No, it's me," he drawled, "what's wrong?"

"Oh sorry—I thought you were Doug," she sighed, putting her hand to her temple. "You haven't heard from him, have you?"

"I did, but that was a while ago—he didn't come home?"

She bit her lip at his mention of "home," realizing that they all considered their house Doug's home. All of them but Doug. "No and I can't reach him on his cell. I'm really starting to worry, Abe."

"You have the baby with you?"

"Yes, she's here," she nodded, looking up at Bobby's worried frown as he appeared in the doorway. "He didn't want her subjected to that."

"Good—I knew I should've called him about the house, but I didn't want to worry him," he sighed. "Listen if you hear from him let me know."

"How did this happen, Abe?" she worried. "How did anyone find out about him?"

"Maybe someone from your online group said something about him. Anyway it seems like you can't hide much from the media today."

"Unless you're the Army."

"By the way, how's he seemed since he got back?"

"Alright I guess," she said hesitantly, glancing at Katie's beaming face as she held up her favorite book for her to see. Nodding, she went over to her to sit down at her side.

"You don't sound that convincing, Brenda."

"It's just that he didn't come back to feed Katie her dinner like he usually does," she sighed. "Though Katie's treating him like he's a stranger."

"Oh dear…I'm concerned this is getting to be too much for him," he stated. "He needs to get away from it all and have some fun for a change."

"That's a good idea," she breathed, though her heart sank at the prospect of him leaving again. "So what do you think—we talking Disneyland?"

"You know that's not a bad idea, though Catherine's a little young," he sighed. "The only problem with that is the store."

"He's closed it up so many times, what's another few days?"

"But that's bad for business...I keep telling him to sell, but he says he's not ready. I'm afraid it might not recover after the incident with Tim, and now closing shop so often."

"Bobby and I both offered to work there to keep it open, but he wouldn't allow it," she admitted. "Is it really at that point, where he has to sell?"

"It might be…only he knows for sure."

"You know I just thought of something," she said, her spirits lifting. "Dad had a lot of friends in the police department here, I wonder if they'd do us a favor and help him with the media?"

"That's a great idea, Brenda—it wouldn't hurt to ask. Look I've gotta go—I'm helping Ceil with her plumbing."

"Give her our love, ok?"

"Sure will, and let me know when you hear from him."

"I will…bye."

She picked up Katie to kiss her, checking her diaper by sniffing it and making her laugh.

"He's here!" Bobby shouted from upstairs, and she looked Katie in the eye.

"Daddy's home!" she exclaimed, "let's go give him a big kiss!"

"Dat-di!" Katie smiled, curling her arms around her neck. "Dat-di hom!"

She peered out the window and saw Doug climb out. Holding aside the curtain, she watched as he hung his head and hesitated. He seemed to take a deep breath before turning and starting up the walk. Rushing toward the door just as Bobby appeared at the head of the stairs, she looked up and held his worried gaze before pulling open the door.

Doug stood with his hand up as if to knock. Surprised at that, she forced a smile despite his dejected expression. He dropped his hand, his eyes shifting to Catherine's hesitant look.

Brenda saw the strain in his expression and sensed his exhaustion. Not knowing what to say or do, she waited for him to explain.

"Dat-de ti-erd," a tiny voice spoke, prompting her to step aside. He smiled weakly as he studied his daughter, further alarming them.

"Why were you going to knock?" she blurted out, startling them both.

His eyes moved to hers, looking confused. "I—"

"You have a key, don't you?" she demanded, angry at the way his circumstances seemed to snowball down a dangerous slope.

"Yes, I do—"

"So why knock?"

He frowned, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You know I really don't know," he answered tightly, eyeing Katie with regret in case he was upsetting her. "Habit, I guess."

"Well that's one habit we need to change," she answered, lifting her chin. "The other one is not calling to say where you are."

He glanced up at Bobby, who must have shrugged. "Sorry we didn't wait supper for you, man," he called before they heard him retreat back into his room.

She took another step back as he hesitated, then came in with a guarded expression. "I didn't mean to worry you," he said more quietly.

"You're dinner's in the microwave," she said, closing the door behind him and bolting it. Passing Katie to him, she stalked off toward the kitchen.

"I'm sorry!" he called after her and she couldn't help smiling to herself. Her quickly assembled plan to distract him from the impending lack of privacy he faced was sure to work. "Brenda—wait!"

"Tired waiting for you Douglas Bukowski!" she called from the kitchen, punching the reheat button as he entered.

"Dat-di kiss," Katie cooed, and after a moment she heard the slurpy kiss he gave Katie to make her laugh. The baby's deep-throated laugh was proof, but she turned just as Katie framed the sides of his face and smiled up at him. The radiance of his smile choked her up, for it seemed he and Katie were finally getting close again.

His eyes shifted to her as he came closer "Thanks for watching her—"

"Do you have any idea how worried we've been?" she accused softly, not wanting to alarm Katie.

His smile faded. "I was going to call you—"

"Yeah, well you're too late," she stated, turning her back to him as the microwave beeped. Opening the door, she took out his plate and carried it over to the place she'd set for him. "Sit down and eat."

He eyed her suspiciously. "Yes ma'am," he drawled as he moved closer and sat. Settling Katie onto his lap he turned aside just enough so that she couldn't grab his silverware. "Thank you?"

She huffed and reached for the baby but he shot her a warning glance.

"Ok—fine!" she exclaimed, sitting opposite him and smiling a fake smile. He took a moment to study her before picking up his fork and trying the baked chicken she'd worked so hard to make for him.

"Your father called too," she stated, crossing her arms as his eyes bored into her. He chewed slowly, swallowing as she couldn't help watching, fascinated by the movement of his lips and throat.

She looked up into his eyes, feeling the atmosphere crack like lightning between them. Even Katie gazed up at him in awe before he shifted his attention to her and smiled warmly.

"Daddy's little girl needs a book," he said simply, reaching over to get one from the basket behind the seat. She watched as Katie grabbed his shirt for balance, pulling it low. Beneath the fabric she caught a glimpse of tanned skin before her eyes shot up.

He settled her on his lap as Katie gripped her book. Then he looked up, his eyes gazing into hers with a knowing look. It was then that she realized she'd been caught in her own trap. Fighting to remember what she was supposed to be doing, she found it difficult, distracted by his navy blue eyes.

"Thank you for feeding Katie," he said quietly, stabbing another piece of chicken with his fork.

"We had a long talk about you," she blurted out as he ate slowly, "your father and I."

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, but he said nothing, all the while he staring back at her.

"He's worried too, about you."

"Is that so?" he breathed, picking up his water glass. "What about?"

She stared at his throat as he drained half the glass and set it down. The tip of his tongue peeked out to remove the drop of water left on his lip, which she tried to ignore as she shot her gaze back to his.

"The fact that you need a vacation," she stated, pushing back a strand of hair that chose the wrong moment to stick to the corner of her mouth. His eyes followed, lingering on her cheek like a caress. "You and Katie," she clarified.

"He said that?" he said quietly, stabbing a forkful of twice-baked potatoes.

She nodded, holding his gaze as he chewed them and swallowed. The silence in the room was broken by Katie's soft murmurs as she "read" her book. At one point she leaned her head back against his chest, pressing the fabric against its muscles. She looked up, right into his knowing gaze.

"What else?" he stated, spearing another piece of chicken. When he looked up again, he pinned her with his gaze. "Surely someone has another complaint to lodge?"

"Complaint?" she croaked, eyeing Katie's enraptured reading. "I'm just letting you know what happened while you were—"

"Lounging around and ignoring everyone?" he interrupted, his eyes blazing. Then he parted his lips and ate the food, holding her gaze.

"I didn't say that!" she hissed quietly, distracted by the movements of his lips. His lower lip was fuller, something about it making her thoughts go haywire. "But you could've called one of us!"

He swallowed and paused, his eyes narrowing. "What are you so mad about?"

She shot out a breath of frustration. "I'm not mad, but you know how much we worry about you—"

"You mean how much _you_ worry about me," he corrected, lips edging toward a smile.

"No, we _all_ worry when we don't hear from you," she insisted, leaning back in her seat. He casually picked up his glass and held it to his lips.

"When I called my father he said you sounded…_distraught_," he said softly before drinking his water.

"Distraught? Wait a minute—you called your father?"

He nodded, swallowing and setting the glass down carefully. "I called your brother too, since your cell was busy."

"You called me? And Bobby?" she asked in disbelief, resisting the urge to confirm it by getting her cell phone.

"So you see, I do report in whenever possible," he stated, leaning back and holding her gaze. "I _was_ busy with several important matters, which I intend to discuss with you."

"What 'matters'—"

"By the way thank you for the delicious meal," he said gently, shifting Katie to his shoulder. She rested her head down, reaching out to touch his throat with her fingers. "I'm sorry I'm so late."

She pulled her eyes from his throat and looked into his warm gaze. "You're welcome…"

"Hey Doug, would it be ok if I throw a party here for graduation—" Bobby interrupted, halting abruptly at the door when he saw them. His eyes shifted between them as he frowned. "You guys are fighting again!"

"Yes, and it's none of your business—"

"We're just catching up—"

They both stopped, Brenda qualifying her statement. "No, we're just talking, not that it's any of your business."

"A graduation party's a great idea," Doug stated, a hint of a smile lighting his eyes. "But no alcohol and not more than a dozen people," he added.

"And you have to clean up your own mess," she added.

Bobby's face brightened. "Great! Hey thanks Doug!" he croaked before rushing back toward the stairs. "No hitting, now!"

"You're welcome," Doug sighed, his gaze returning to her. His brows lifted. "Where were we?"

"You can't just go ahead and do that!" she protested, jealous of his reconciliation with Bobby when they were still at odds. "Even if you are his guardian! I live here too, you know—"

"I thought we could be the chaperones," he said quietly, his heated gaze practically burning her.

Thrown off by his quiet manner she tried gathering the shreds of her fading anger. Katie yawned tiredly, distracting him. He slid to the edge of the bench and got up, cradling her close. Picking up his plate and silver, he glanced down at her.

"We'll talk later, if you don't mind."

She gaped at him, unable to protest. He went to the sink and rinsed his dishes, then headed for the stairs. Closing her eyes, she sensed sheer defeat in rattling him. Having underestimated his abilities to endure whatever odds he seemed to face, she was even more confused that he'd be angry with her. Shaking her head, she stared toward the stairs he'd just taken.

"Talk about what?" she whispered, deciding she had no idea how to deal with him, or with his problems. And even more fully aware of her own.

_**Doug nodded to Bobby as Brenda preceded him out the door.**_ "Thanks for watching Katie," he said quietly, his hand on the knob. "We're just going for a walk."

He nodded, his gaze shifting toward his sister. "She all right?" he whispered.

He nodded, forcing a smile. "See you later."

Brenda was already heading down the porch steps, nervous energy radiating all around her. He followed as the door closed behind them. Taking a deep breath, he glanced up toward the full moon and considered his earlier prayers for guidance. But she turned suddenly and crossed her arms, waiting impatiently for him at the end of the walk.

He went to her side and they started off, taking the route toward the park without really planning it. They adjusted their paces without a word, and when she took a deep breath he felt her relaxing. Hoping he was doing the right thing, he tried to shrug off the familiar guilt that accompanied him and concentrated on the future instead.

They walked in silence before he dared to reach out toward her. His hand brushed hers before he caught it, squeezing it gently as they walked. Her steps faltered a bit but she quickly recovered. She didn't even look up at him but he decided it felt good, holding her hand for the first time. He felt strangely nervous on one level, but sure of himself on a much deeper one.

_Tell me now if I'm doing the wrong thing..._

After some time he felt her fingers curl gently around his. Clearing his throat, he eyed the moonlit park ahead and the silver ribbon of the stream that marked its edge.

"I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to talk," he began, eyeing her profile. She tensed before glancing up at him.

"I know," she breathed; "it has been kind of crazy…"

He laced his fingers through hers as she moved a bit closer. They entered the park and headed for the pond.

"A lot has happened, in the meantime."

She nodded, releasing a cleansing breath. "I'm sorry," she confessed softly, "about before."

"I'm not," he admitted gently, feeling her hand stiffen a bit. Slowing her pace, she looked directly at him, waiting.

"And I need to know if you still feel the same way," he asked her, "as you did before."

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes," she admitted softly, her eyes bright, "even more strongly."

He nodded, pursing his lips. "I feel the same way…"

"But?" she choked, pulling her hand from his.

"I just don't want to," he said, closing his eyes and searching for the right words. "I don't want to ruin what we already have."

Her eyes widened. "Ruin what?" she whispered.

"Our friendship," he stated. "But then again, I can hardly deny having other feelings for you."

She hugged herself, waiting. Her eyes were filling with tears, confirming the fact that he was messing it up. He fingered the box in his pocket, threw caution to the wind and pulled it out. Reaching for her hand, he opened her fingers it and placed it in her palm. She pulled her gaze from his and stared down at it.

Suddenly a wave of grief hit him, followed by a surge of pure joy. Stared up at him in surprise.

"Marry me?" he croaked, standing his ground as he studied every detail of her face he could see in the moonlight.

She tore her gaze from his and slowly pried open the lid, staring at the diamond that sparkled like a tiny star. He heard her choke his name before she looked up. Then she threw her arms around him, burying her face against his neck. Raising his arms he hesitated, then cradled her close. She pulled back to stare at him, her expression lit by an unearthly glow. Her lips parted slightly as her eyes lowered to his mouth. With his heart pounding against his chest he gave up the long battle of fighting his feelings for her.

"What the hell," he choked, lifting a hand to the back of her head as he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips met and molded together. Then curling his other arm low around her back he pulled her close, claiming her mouth in a deeply satisfying kiss.

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt_


	21. Chapter 21 Graduations

_**Chapter 21 Graduations**_

Brenda smiled and smoothed her hand down his chest, looking up at him. He groaned, catching it away and lifting it to his lips. His eyes held hers as he gently kissed her fingertips.

"Hey, go easy on me," he said huskily. "I'm only human, after all."

She snuggled into his side as he rested their joined hands atop his thigh. "Really?" she sighed. "You could have fooled me."

He smiled briefly, his expression changing to one of concern. "Listen Brenda, about today—

"Please," she warned, resting her head back upon his shoulder, "don't spoil the moment? I'm still dreaming and I don't ever want to wake up."

He shifted his position slightly, wincing gently. "If it is a dream then why is my back killing me?"

She lifted her head, glancing around them. "Because we're sitting on a park bench that's seen better days," she admitted, ducking out from under his arm to get to her feet. When he stayed where he was she tugged at his hand. "We'd better get back, or Bobby'll worry—"

"Not until you give me an answer," he stated, resisting her efforts to get him to his feet.

"Isn't it obvious by now?" she smiled, releasing his hand as he checked his watch.

"The only thing that's obvious is that we've spent the last half hour kissing," he said, looking up with a smirk. "So come on—what's your answer?"

She crossed her arms and sighed impatiently. "I think you know the answer."

"No, not really," he said quietly, getting to his feet and winding his arms around her. "Are you having reservations?"

"No, it's just that you asked me kind of suddenly," she replied, fingering the edge of his collar.

"You're right," he breathed, "and I know I should have waited until after a year—"

"No!" she gasped, gripping his upper arms. "I'm glad you didn't! I couldn't have waited that long."

He studied her a moment. "I think I see a 'but' in there somewhere."

She felt herself blush and looked down at his chest. "You know I love you…it's just that—marrying me is kind of a risky thing for you to do."

"Hey," he breathed, touching her chin until she looked up at him. "I was there, remember? If you're concerned how things might be between us, there's no need to be."

"How can I _not_ be concerned?" she worried. "I don't know how I might react—you saw what I did to Nick—"

"That's because he was a selfish insensitive brute," he said with a smile. "Besides that, we've just shared some wildly passionate kisses and I made it through ok."

She couldn't help laughing. "You do have a point there."

"Unless you think I'm no better than your old boyfriend," he said, looking slightly offended.

She hugged him close. "No—you'd never treat me like that…I just don't want to panic at the wrong moment and club you in the head."

He eased away to look her in the eye. "We won't ever do anything you're not ready for, or comfortable with, understand?"

She studied him a moment, then nodded. "Ok."

"So you'll marry me?"

"Of course I'll marry you, but not until September 1st."

His expression sobered. "You even see the baggage I have…then September 1st it is."

"That means we'll have waited a year since everything happened," she said with conviction. It felt right, waiting until then, "And Bobby will have graduated already."

"Graduation!" he croaked, "but I completely forgot—you won't be finished by then."

"No, not quite—mine is on the 4th."

"Then we'll wait," he decided, taking her hand as they started back toward the sidewalk.

"That's only two months," she breathed, eyeing his sobering expression. Then she remembered that he'd mentioned wanting to talk about other things. "Doug…what happened when you went home today?"

He glanced at her as they continued walking hand in hand. "We can talk about that later."

"Why not now?"

He looked at her with a slight smile. "Because I don't want to steal anything from us, or this moment."

She nodded, holding up her left hand to the light from the streetlamps. "It's beautiful—at least tell me how you got it, and when?"

"That's for later," he sighed, pulling her closer to drape his arm over her shoulders.

"But how did you know my size?"

He glanced away. "It's a long story."

She squeezed his side until he protested. "All right! If you must know, I found a ring in the guest room and knew it must be yours."

"What ring, and how did you know it was mine?"

"It was a folky kind of ring, with a purple stone in the center," he shrugged. "And Lynne never wore rings, except for her wedding band..."

She watched his expression turn wistful. "I know," she said gently. "She always said she didn't like all the fuss other girls made about the sizes of their diamonds."

"That's right," he sighed, shaking his head. "She wouldn't let me buy her one, even though I wanted to."

"So you found my ring…"

He glanced back down at her. "I took it to a jeweler to size it, then just picked one out that seemed to fit your personality."

She stared at him in disbelief, never having imagined he'd do something like that. "But when did you do all this?"

He eyed her intently. "I found your ring before I left for D.C."

"So you kept it, all this time?"

"I did."

"And when did that translate into buying me an engagement ring?" she had to know.

"I bought it earlier today," he sighed. "That's why I was so late."

She was mortified, and covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm so sorry…you let me yell at you and treat you horribly all that time!"

He smiled broadly. "It was for a good cause," he said huskily, turning and pulling her back into his arms. She felt his hand slide into her hair as he brought his lips close to her ear, making her shiver. "But I will tell you that when I made it past the crowds and entered that empty house, I realized it wasn't home anymore."

She gripped his shoulders, hugging him tight. "It wasn't?"

"No," he breathed, pulling her lips to his for a lingering kiss. "And when I tried to think of home, all I could see was you and Katie…and even Bobby."

She felt him chuckle at the latter and touched his cheek, loving the feel of his soft, scraggly beard. "Now that _is_ strange…"

He reached up to smooth back a tendril of her hair. "And I realized that I'd changed…we all have."

"And that made you want to propose?"

"Not exactly," he admitted. "But I knew that at some point I wanted to ask you, before you found somebody else."

She shook her head. "There hasn't _been _anyone else…nor will there be."

"But just in case I had to have the ring ready," he told her, "you know, for the proper moment."

"Which was today, after our fight?"

He shrugged. "I don't mind fighting with you."

She smiled and raised up onto her toes to kiss his lips. "Me either, as long as we make up like this."

He kissed her hungrily, finally pulling away to try to catch his breath. "You know, I even consulted the Almighty about the matter," he breathed.

She gaped at him in surprise. "You _prayed_ about asking me to marry you?"

He shrugged. "If crying out demanding answers from heaven and yelling at God counts as prayer, then yes."

She hugged his side as he turned them to continue back. "Yeah," she smiled, loving him even more for that. "I think that counts."

_**They all settled back into Abe's car, Ceil in the middle of the front seat with Bobby on the passenger side. **_Doug sat in the back with Brenda, Catherine in her car seat between them. He eyed her wan expression, trying to dispel the bleak feeling deep in his soul. No one said anything as they drove away, leading the way out of the cemetery. Behind them a procession of half a dozen cars followed, a surprising turnout for the unveiling considering how few people had attended the burials.

She turned her head and met his gaze then, her skin pale as she forced a smile. Reaching over his daughter's seat he took her hand, squeezing it as he looked into her eyes. She nodded and held his gaze, her eyes moist with emotion. No one had shed a tear except for his aunt, but they were all pretty choked up. After a minute she took a deep breath and slid her hand from his grasp. He eyed her bare finger, reminded that they still needed to announce their engagement before his family left for home again. He only prayed they would take it the right way, especially Bobby.

"So exactly _what_ is an unveiling?" Bobby ventured into the silence.

Abe turned his head, glancing at his sister before he directed he gaze forward.

"It's like an anniversary," Ceil replied, her attention straight ahead, "to commemorate the year of passing for our loved ones."

"And the cover thing that Doug took off the headstone?" Bobby continued, ignoring him completely.

Brenda glanced his way and shrugged, apologizing in a way for her brother. He shook his head, as much as to say to her not to make a big deal out of it.

"It's just another symbol to end the year of mourning," she added with a shrug.

"But how come you guys don't do flowers?" he wanted to know.

"It's just not our custom," she told him, glancing his way. "You're really interested, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am," he sighed, looking back at Doug. "But you put a yellow rose on Lynne's grave."

"I'm not so strict, Bobby," he said, pursing his lips. _It felt right, with you and Brenda laying large bouquets of flowers on your parents' graves_, he wanted to say_. How could I do nothing for Lynne?_

"I think that's lovely, Doug," she said, turning to glance back at him. "We can't have Lynne with nothing at all, can we?"

Brenda nodded, but Doug saw tears misting her eyes. She did take hold of Catherine's hand as she met his gaze, then glanced past him out his window.

"So now what's done?" Bobby asked, settling in to his relationship with Ceil, who was great with teenagers, Doug knew. She'd been like a substitute mom to him for years, and he could see Bobby following in those steps too.

"Well you light a yahrtzeit candle on each anniversary," she sighed, looking at Abe. "You'd almost think he wanted to convert…"

"Convert? Me?" Bobby gasped, laughing. "Ah no that's ok, no offense you guys…I just think it's interesting."

"It is, given the fact that Christians have nothing at all to do," Brenda sighed. Three heads turned to look at her from the front seat, and even Doug stared at her in surprise.

She smiled. "Actually I'm the one who might want to convert."

Doug felt himself blanch, hoping this was not the way she would bring up their engagement. He tried signaling to her that it wasn't the right time, but she patted his hand reassuringly.

"I have a question too," she said brightly, "does one have to convert to marry a Jewish person?"

"That depends on how religious the family is," Ceil said, her eyes narrowing. "Why, Brenda?"

"Oh, just wondering," she breathed, "like Bobby was."

"Lynne didn't convert to marry me," he stated, wondering if it wasn't better to at least move in that direction. He suspected his father had caught them holding hands. Bobby had, but hadn't mentioned it at all, to anyone.

"No, she didn't," Abe sighed, shaking his head. "May she rest in peace."

"Well I'm hungry," Bobby stated, glancing around as they finally pulled onto the main road. "Is it ok to go out to eat?"

"Well," Ceil worried, glancing at Doug. "On days like this we usually don't—"

"But we're all dressed up," he whined, "and you could use a break Aunt Ceil."

She stared at him, a smile on her face. "You're something else, kiddo."

"He's right," Doug agreed, glancing at Brenda. "You always are cooking and cleaning, Ceil."

"Well I for one would vote Italian," Brenda gushed, glancing at Katie. "And Catherine loves spaghetti."

"Yeah but she'll be wearing it all over her little pink dress," Bobby chuckled, "but now that you mention it I could really get into some fettuccini Alfredo…"

"Not a bad idea," he agreed, reaching down to get pull a bottle from the diaper bag. "Here sweetheart, have some juice," he said gently to Catherine.

"Duse," she crooned, perking up and reaching for it. He gently patted her shoulder, his arm around the top of her seat.

"Italian it is," Abe declared, looking at Bobbie. "Point out the way to a good restaurant, will you?"

"Be glad to," Bobby stated, visibly relaxing.

Doug glanced at Brenda over Catherine's head, smiling secretly to her. Her mood had improved a bit, and her eyes shone. He let Katie hold her own bottle and stretched back in his seat, his gaze drifting out the window. Staring at the passing trees, he tried to grasp the fact that it had already been a year since their deaths. He really didn't know how he'd made it, except for reaching out to God and having the support of his family and Brenda. He felt like he was emerging from a very dark hole and was blinking in the light, not quite sure how to adjust. Even with the events which had recently taken place.

Bobby had graduated high school with honors and had been accepted at the University of Washington, which he stated had always been his dream school. He credited him with helping him score high on his SATs, opening up a place for him there. Brenda had graduated college magna cum laude and took a paid internship was in jewelry design company and he'd finally submitted his thesis. Unbelievably it was in the process of being published and printed. He'd finally been discharged from service by his neurologist, orthopedic surgeon and physical and occupational therapists, who'd all concurred that he was managing well with his disability. The Army was currently arranging settlements for them, as well as for all the families who'd lost loved ones in the New Mexico desert, though the Department of Energy still insisted they were innocent of any wrongdoing. His testimony had weighed in favor of the settlements, for which his online contacts were grateful. On that note they were planning a dedication of a memorial to be erected near the Trinity Site in honor of all the victims, tentatively scheduled for next year. Brenda's friend Alexis had won the competition with her plans for sculpture to mark the place, a bronze six foot statue of angels carrying the victims up to heaven. He'd know it was the right one as soon as he'd seen her forms, and the other families had unanimously agreed. Brenda was helping her on that as well, and his job search was returning several interested contacts. He's sold the store to a larger company, who were currently renovating it for their opening next month.

"Doug," Brenda's voice interrupted, and he pulled his gaze from the window, eyeing her bemused expression. "You alright?"

He nodded, glancing at Bobby's raised brows. "Just thinking about everything that's happened."

"You desperately need a vacation, man," he stated, looking to Abe for agreement. "I'm taking one, but I think you need it more."

"Yeah," he breathed, realizing that they were pulling into the parking lot of the best Italian restaurant in the city, wondering how they got there. "Now that I've sold the store, I suppose I can take one."

"Well I'm going with Nate and his family to Boston for a week but Brenda's not far away," he added, to which Abe and Ceil began plying him with the typical questions.

He eyed Brenda with a faint smile as they opened their doors to climb out. "No," he agreed softly, "she's not far away at all."

_**They lifted their wine glasses to toast each other, **_with Abe and Ceil wishing them all happiness and future success in their chosen career paths. Doug made light of his accomplishments, stating quietly that it took him long enough to finish his master's, but his family was effusive in their praises for him.

"It was quite a feat, especially considering what you went through this past year," he father said proudly, setting down his glass to hug him tightly. "I'm proud of you, son."

He nodded, looking embarrassed especially since the whole restaurant seemed to be watching. "Thanks, Dad."

"I'm picking up the tab for this, and I insist we all have dessert," his father announced, to which they all applauded.

Thankfully the rest of the diners turned back to their meals and the conversation rose to a higher volume, as before. Brenda leaned toward him with a smile.

"You handled that well," she said, watching Abe wipe spaghetti sauce from Katie's cheek as she screeched in excitement.

"Thanks, you didn't do too bad yourself," he teased, watching Bobby raise his hands in victory. "But brace yourself—we're about to go public."

"Doug, no!" she hissed, further embarrassed when he slowly stood and raised his glass again.

"Everybody?" he said just loud enough for their table to hear. All eyes shot to him as they waited, and he glanced down at her with a smile. "I have another announcement to make."

She reddened and lifted her napkin to her lips, not quite sure how they would all take it, especially Bobby. But Doug was determined to make this a family announcement, and thought it be best done in public in case Bobby wanted to make a scene. She wasn't so sure, she decided as she looked at the way her brother's gaze shifted from Doug to Abe and then to her. His eyes narrowed as Doug cleared his throat.

"I decided to use this opportunity, when everyone is in a festive mood though not to detract in any way from Bobby's and Brenda's accomplishments—"

"What about your own, Doug?" Ceil interrupted, her face alight with interest.

"Granted that was an accomplishment, but I'd like to change the subject a little and make another announcement."

"What you're going into research instead of teaching?" Bobby joked, leaning back in his chair.

"No, it's really not job-related, so please just hear me out?"

"Go ahead, but sit down before everyone in the place gets involved again," Abe pleaded, to which he sat abruptly down. But he reached for the bottle of wine and refilled his father's glass.

"Alright, but just give me your attention for a bit longer?"

"You got it," Bobby stated, leaning forward while he filled his glass all the way. "And thanks for letting me partake."

Abe waved a hand. "It's just wine, which Jewish children younger than you drink at Passover."

"Then I'll be sure to come for Passover next year," Bobby said with a bow of his head.

"Please, everyone?" Doug asked, a bit frustrated. When he had their attention he glanced at Brenda, who sat back and folded her hands in her lap. In her purse was the ring he'd given her, and though she was a bit apprehensive at their reaction, she decided she couldn't wait to tell the world of their engagement.

"I wanted you all to know that two weeks ago I asked Brenda to marry me," he said carefully, glancing down at his daughter who looked up at him with a smile on her face. "And much to my amazement, she has agreed."

Silence reigned for nearly a full minute before Ceil clapped her hands, her eyes full of love. "Douglas! You amaze me all the time, but this is beyond my wildest dreams! Congratulations, and Brenda you know we've always loved you as our own daughter!"

"Wow that's great news," Abe agreed, nodding his head as a smile split his face. He reached out his hand and shook Doug's, then hugged him again. "I couldn't be happier for you both!"

Brenda felt him reach for her hand, which he squeezed as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. She blushed, thanking them all before looking at her brother. Bobby sat transfixed, then his gaze shot to Doug, narrowed suspiciously, then settled on her face.

"You sure about this, sis?"

She nodded, gripping Doug's hand like a lifeline. "I fell in love with him even before that." She looked at Doug, who scooted closer and put his arm around her. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she felt happier than she had in months. Even years.

"So—when's the happy occasion?" Ceil wanted to know as she got up. Moving to Doug's side, she gripped his head between her hands and kissed his cheeks, making him blush. Then she came over and kissed her, too. "I'm so happy, for both of you!"

Bobby slowly got up, coming over to Doug and extending his hand. "Wow—this was a little scary at first, but now I think it feels kind of amazing," he admitted.

Doug studied him, shaking his hand before he gripped Bobby and hugged him. "We want you to be ok with this," he said quietly.

Bobby nodded, "I am—it was just a surprise at first." He turned to her as she got up and hugged him.

"We both love you, Bobby," she told him, feeling her tears well up. "You'll see, nothing will change that."

He nodded. "I know—really, it's cool. You guys will be good together, and I think Lynne would want you to."

She nodded. "We think so, too."

"And does my little niece know?" he teased, going over to Katie and lifting her from her high chair. "How's my little buddy, huh? Uncle Bob's gonna take care of you now, especially with dessert coming!"

_**The ceremony was held at Ceil's house on September 2nd, **_with the rabbi who officiated Doug's bar mitzvah years before officiating. Besides family members Bobby's two best friends came, as did Alexis and Missy in support of the bride. The matron of honor was none other than her friend Tina, who flew in with her husband from New Mexico to help them celebrate. It was a traditional service held under a chuppah made of flowers, taking place on a blessedly warm sunny day in Ceil's backyard garden. Katie delighted in her role as flower girl, throwing petals of roses at everyone as she circled the small crowd guided by her great aunt Ceil. They wrapped a wine glass in a cloth napkin, and by the time Doug stomped on it and kissed his bride they all sighed in corporate relief, considering this beginning of life together a fitting close to a year of suffering and loss.

Brenda hugged Tina as Doug shook hands with her husband, taking some time to get to know him. She leaned back and studied her friend's glowing face.

"I'm so glad you could come," she breathed happily, hugging Tina again. "Thank you for being my matron of honor."

"Are you kidding?" Tina gushed, extending her at arm's length to get a good look at her up close. "I wouldn't have missed this for anything! You look gorgeous, and best of all happy."

"Thanks, I am," she sighed, glancing over at her new husband who was deep in conversation that looked far too serious for the occasion. "You're husband's great, Tina."

"Yeah I think so, even after 30 years of marriage!" she teased, turning to glance at him. She turned back and winked. "Yours is pretty great too, and he looks _so_ handsome!"

"He does, doesn't he?" she sighed, gazing at Doug. In that moment he looked up, his lips parted as if in mid sentence. The warmth of his gaze heated her skin even across the distance.

He wore a navy suit with a silver and navy striped tie, which he was already loosening with his injured fingers. She was amazed at how well he was managing with them, for he didn't even seem to notice them anymore or be hindered much in their use. His hair was streaked by the sun with highlights, and the secret kiss he'd planted on her cheek before the ceremony had afforded her a whiff of a new aftershave he'd used just to touch up the edges of his scraggly beard. It was woodsy with just a hint of spice, and she couldn't wait to go hang on his arm just to enjoy its scent.

"Oh you've both got it bad, just as I predicted," Tina said, her gaze shifting from Doug's face to her own. "I'm so happy you found each other, and I must say he certainly looks much finer than he did in the ICU."

"I do love him," she whispered to Tina, leaning closer. "And I'm not worried about tonight, or any other night, not with him."

Tina patted her hand, glancing at him again as he took Katie from his aunt's arms, kissing her cheek. His smile lit his face and took one's breath away, at least in Brenda's opinion.

"Just look at him," she whispered to Brenda, "there's gentleness in every move he makes," she said, focusing on her alone. "He'll surely treat you that way too."

She nodded, shivering and laughing at herself. "I'd better get some punch," she choked.

"No, I think you need your man instead, and look out he's coming this way," Tina warned, turning to hug him in greeting. "Congratulations, and may I say you look _much better_ than the last time I saw you, Doug!"

"Thank you, ma'am," he drawled as her husband came to his side.

"Ignore her, it's the nurse talking," he warned Doug, who laughed with them both.

"I thank God for nurses," he replied, letting Tina take Katie as she requested. His eyes caught Brenda's and he smiled. "We both do."

She smiled as he came to her side, sliding his hand around the small of her back as he leaned close. His kippah was made of leather died navy, its border etched with Hebrew letters she wanted translated. Gripping his arm, she pressed into his side for support, feeling elated at being with him and even better being married to him. Gazing up at him, she saw the love in his eyes, and the desire. Gone was that haunted look and the quiet desperation she'd sensed in him, and she vowed to keep it at bay if at all possible.

Tina handed Katie over to Ceil, who announced she was going to change her pull-up. Everyone present had already congratulated them, a thankfully small group, and now they were moving toward the food set up buffet-style.

"Glad the service part is over?" Doug whispered as she touched his lapel. His breath sent little shivers down her bare neck as his eyes followed the long curled tendril of hair that reached to the top of her gown.

She nodded, leaning closer. "I'll have to learn Hebrew—it sounded beautiful but I have no idea what it meant."

He chuckled, his voice low. "It's mostly the Psalms and prayers of thanksgiving," he told her. "We have a siddur with the translations printed on one side if you're interested."

"I am," she breathed, holding his gaze. "It would be nice to know every detail…"

He kissed her forehead, but she hungered for another kiss like the one he'd planted on her when the rabbi declared them husband and wife. He straightened, his eyes telling her that he understood as a tiny smile lifted the corners of his lips.

"Thank you for marrying me," he whispered, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckled.

She curtsied just enough to honor him without embarrassing him. "Thank _you_…"

Ceil's oldest son passed a tray of champagne flutes, and they each took one, turning as Abe gave the toast, then l'chayim. They linked elbows and drank, looking into each other's eyes.

"To life," he repeated, translating for her. They heard clinking sounds being made with the glasses, and he laughed softly, setting aside their glasses.

She gripped his arms as he lowered her back just enough to kiss her, a firm press of his warm lips upon hers as everyone shouted in approval, gentling to soft tentative nibbles as he smiled into her gaze. She fanned herself as he pulled her upright again, then kicked off her heels. His eyes gauged the decrease in her height as she heard music start and climbed up barefoot onto the tops of his shoes. He laughed, gripping her waist as she clung to his shoulders and they danced slowly, not really knowing how to or caring. In fact no one cared, which made it a much more relaxing and stress-free celebration. A celebration of life.

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt_


	22. Chapter 22 Ever After

_**Chapter 22 Ever After**_

**N**_**OTE: **__In the last chapter I put the wrong date for the wedding Sept. 2__nd!__! It should be Sept. 5__th__, after Brenda's graduation…sorry! Hope you enjoy this last chapter! Please read and review _

_**In the dim light of the lamp she held her breath as he entered, **_distracted by the tiny glint of gold shining out from where his shirt parted. Looking up, she saw the hint of a smile at his lips as he came toward her. Taking her back into his arms, he kissed her cheek as she reached up and touched his Star of David.

"You're wearing it," she said softly, lifting it from his chest to gently finger its edges.

He held her gaze a moment, then glanced down. "Yeah…I decided to wear it again."

"Good," she smiled up at him, dropping it back to his chest before tightening her arms around his waist. "It suits you."

He lifted her chin with one hand and kissed her lips with delicious hesitancy. "You suit me."

She kissed him back with slow deliberation, her fingers nudging aside the fabric that covered one of his scars. Following its line from collarbone to pectoral muscle, she traced it with trembling fingers and looked into his eyes.

"I've wanted to do this for a while…"

His brows shot up. "If your intention is to make it better, please do."

She smiled as she unfastened the remaining buttons of his dress shirt and slowly peeled it aside. His hands shifted to her shoulders as she leaned forward to place tiny kisses along its jagged length.

"In fact," he said in a slightly strangled voice, "you can do anything you want..."

Thus encouraged, she looked into his eyes as she coaxed his shirt back off his shoulders. His left hand went behind her as he gently pulled the comb from her hair. The wavy spirals Alexis had insisted on styling into her hair bounced onto her shoulders. Trying to slow her racing heart she studied his furrowed brow, teasing him with her touch.

"Really? … anything?"

"Ah sure, within reason," he gasped as she pulled his shirt from his pants and touched the long scar at his side where they'd removed his spleen. Then he lifted his hands to her cup her jaw, kissing her slowly but thoroughly.

She drank in his kisses, running her fingers along the muscles of his chest until he reached around her back. She felt him unzipping her dress and looked up into his darkening gaze, clutching the top of her gown to her breasts.

"I want to help you heal," she whispered, "and to forget."

He nodded. "Let me help you too…"

He reached for her hand and pulled her back into his arms. She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him back, not caring about the dress as she wound her arms around his shoulders.

"Lead the way," he sighed, bending his head to kiss down the side of her neck. His lips caused goose bumps along her skin as she pressed into him, feeling the hard lines of his body as she gave in to his touch.

"Make me yours," she whispered, lifting his head with her hands as she kissed him once.

His eyes opened. "Only when you're ready."

She spread her hand low over his stomach, slipping two fingers beneath his waistband. "I'm ready now."

"God," he gasped, lifting her and carrying her backwards toward the bed. "You tempt me," he said, kissing her hungrily.

"I thought that was the plan," she laughed, gripping his shoulders as his knees hit the mattress. They fell together onto the pillow top bed, with him carefully bracing himself above her. She reached up and pulled his shirt all the way off, kissing his throat as she tossed it away. "You smell so good…what is this, after shave?"

"Shampoo," he corrected, bending his head to kiss her neck. "It's your turn now," he whispered into her ear, the soft laughter in his voice evident as he slipped his arms beneath her.

"I love you," she sighed hugging him fiercely.

"Love you too," he whispered as he raised her toward him. Her body sang in response to his kisses and his touch. Eventually she reached and tugged down her gown. His eyes shot to the lacy strapless camisole she wore beneath, then back.

She smoothed her hands up and down his arms, smiling up at him. "Don't stop," she whispered.

He smiled then, kissing her gently. "We've only just started," he whispered back.

_**He sank onto his side, still joined with her as he tried to catch his breath. **_He felt her lick his throat before she gazed up at him, love shining in her eyes. In that moment she'd never looked more beautiful.

"You alright?" she panted softly, reaching up to gently lift his sweat-plastered hair off his temple.

He caught her hand and kissed her fingertips, smiling wolfishly. "Just one more little snack?"

She surged up to nibble his lower lip in a way that drove him crazy. "Only if I can have a snack of my own."

He choked out a laugh and pulled her onto his chest, relishing the delicious contact of her skin against his. It felt intoxicating, and he closed his eyes with a soft groan.

"Don't fall asleep yet," she complained, kissing his chin as if she had all the time in the world.

"Sleep with me," he sighed, lazily sliding his lower lip against hers.

"Alright," she sighed, tucking her face between his neck and shoulder. "Did you put the Do Not Disturb sign out?" she yawned.

"You kiddin?" he croaked, curling his hand around her shoulder. "It was the first thing I did."

"How thoughtful," she sighed, sliding her arm across his stomach.

He drew the blankets higher over her back as their legs tangled beneath their warmth. "I'm thoughtful personified," he sighed heartily.

She laughed softly. "You certainly are… patient and persistence too."

He kissed her hair. "My middle names." Feeling completely satisfied and relaxed, he drifted toward sleep.

Her fingertips slowly combed what little chest hair he had. "I'm sorry I panicked for a minute," she said softly, nestling his chin with her head. "It surprised me."

"You were amazing," he sighed, "and it wasn't even a minute."

Their making love had not been something he'd planned for tonight, being painfully aware of what she'd suffered. All the research he'd done on rape victims in the last week had only confused him, for much of it was contradictory and case-by-case. He'd prayed for the ability to somehow read her and hopefully know what to do on this their wedding night. But she had encouraged him along, eager for his touch and to be close to him. But when he'd finally entered her she'd frozen in fear and gripped him tightly. Fighting his own panic he'd waited unmoving, seeking a sign from her as to what she wanted. It had taken all his strength and willpower, but he'd withdrawn despite her cries of protest, instead concentrating on bringing her to her own fulfillment. It had taken multiple attempts until she'd finally let go and find release. Then he'd joined them together again, and somehow they'd found their way to each other.

"You _are_ amazing…" she sighed, sliding her hand over his heart. "And now I'll let you go to sleep."

_**Two days later they saw Bobby off to college, **_surprised by his genuine smile and the fact that he actually waved back. As he passed through the gate they watched him step between the monitors, then collect his things again. The airport was crowded with students leaving for college as well as other travelers, and it wasn't long before they lost sight of him. Satisfied that he'd made it through the crowd waiting to board, they pushed Katie's stroller toward the windows and craned their necks in an effort to figure out which plane was his. After another twenty minutes it took off, the flight listed as departed, but not on time.

"Well he's on his way," Brenda sighed, fanning herself as they turned from the windows to head back to the main terminal.

"He looked excited to go," he agreed, glancing down at her flushed face. "You ok?"

"Absolutely," she smiled brightly. "I love my brother, but sometimes I need a break from him."

He threw her a lop-sided grin. "I can't imagine why."

She laughed and took his arm, tossing her hair back. He liked it this way, long and free despite her insistence that it was frizzy and unmanageable in the humidity. But he disagreed, wanting to sift his hands through it and bury his face in its soft fragrance. He just couldn't seem to get enough of it, or of her.

She was wearing a sundress because of the heat, and he admired her modesty in comparison to that of the other women in the crowd. Beneath it she wore a white tee shirt instead of hanging out of the top. The dress was not the typical skimpy length, but instead fell almost to her ankles. It was feminine and combined violet and blue patterns which earned several interested looks from men who passed by.

When she looked up her expression was dreamy. She smiled into his appreciative gaze, resting her hand over his where he gripped the handle of the stroller. They exchanged a secret smile of pleasure meant only for each other until Katie called her name. They both glanced down at her upturned face and came out of the little cocoon of pleasure that had encased them.

"What is it sweetie?" she breathed, taking the toy Catherine was handing her. "For me? Thank you!"

"Datdi ride fast!" she asked him, but he shook his head.

"Not here, Katie—it's too crowded," he answered, pausing before the glass doors before they swished open. The heat from outside hit them like a wall as they left the air conditioned terminal and started toward the car.

"Want ride!" she chanted happily, seeing the whole journey as an adventure. "Bobby fly!"

Brenda looked up at him as they entered the blessed shade of the parking garage. "You called her Katie!" she remarked quietly, sliding her hand up his wrist as they walked.

He turned to look down at her. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"I always thought it suited her better," she shrugged. "At least it's easier to say in a hurry."

"You're right, on both counts," he nodded as they found the car. "We're here."

She took his keys and opened the door, popping the trunk as he lifted Katie out of her stroller. "Now we can go fast," he told his daughter with a smile. "In the car."

"Fast in car!" she said eagerly, gripping his collar as he transferred her to her car seat.

Brenda already had the air conditioning on, having opened the doors until it was cool enough. She met him at the open trunk, already folding up the stroller. He lifted it into the trunk and shut it while she climbed into the car. Once he was settled they lined up for the exit as she started rummaging in her bag. Katie was singing to the kidz songs playing softly in the cd player, and he wondered what she was searching for.

"If you're trying to scrounge up parking money I've got it," he stated, pulling up to the pay window as she said no. He waited for change as she continued to look, then pulled out into the bright sunlight.

"I thought it was right here…" she sighed, glancing at him. "But it's not parking money."

"Then what?"

"I'll tell you when I find it."

"What if you don't?"

"Oh I'll find it."

Finally she gave up the search, and it wasn't until after they'd dropped Katie at Ceil's and drove all the way back to her house that she continued. As he tossed the keys on the table she upended her bag there, pawing through the scattered contents until she held up the object of her search.

"I knew it was in there somewhere!" she breathed, turning to offer it to him.

"What's this?" he croaked, glancing at her faked scowl.

"My lip gloss!" she cried triumphantly. "You know, the one you were always trying to borrow?"

He stared at her in momentary disbelief. "I don't need that—"

"Yes you do—you're always moistening your lips, so this will save you the effort."

He stared at her as if she was crazy, which he was beginning to wonder. "I do not."

"Then you don't even know you're doing it—here!"

He eyed it suspiciously, remembering how she'd never let him use it, not even after he'd hiked the desert road in the hills looking for help. Closing the memory off, he frowned. "That's not the same one."

"No but I replaced it—here! It's the exact same kind."

"Keep it," he grinned, inspired. "I like nagging you for it."

She reached over to stuff it into his shirt pocket. "You need to get your own, Bukowski—"

He cut her off by pulling her into his arms and sealing her lips with his. She grabbed his shoulders and held on as he kissed her deeply. Tasting her lips, he savored the slight minty freshness of the new one she'd started using. As her hands curled over his shoulders he felt her responding, and with a soft moan she surrendered, pressing against him and firing his hunger for her. When he finally managed to lift his head she stared up at him, her eyes sparkling blue and filled with wonder.

"_That's_ how I like my lip gloss," he whispered, smiling down at her as he handed it back.

_**She sighed contentedly, lifting her cheek from his chest. **_He stirred, stretching toward her as she moved away and sat up. He mumbled a soft protest before his breathing slowed again while she gazed down at him. Studying the contours of his face and neck, the broad span of his shoulders and chest, she smiled at the strong arms that were also capable of holding her and making her feel safe, protected and loved.

Reaching toward him she paused, deciding not to disturb him now that he was sleeping so well. It had been a long time since either of them had slept so peacefully, which she knew from one of their long discussions they now tended to share. Smiling at his boyish expression relaxed in sleep, she was thankful that he was hardly a boy anymore.

"I'm going to make you very happy," she whispered before reaching for her sweatshirt to pull on over her camisole. Getting up, she made a quick trip to her bathroom and padded down the hall toward her parents' room. Stopping at the threshold, she stared at their king-sized bed, still unused after all this time. Thinking of her husband lying cramped in her twin sized bed, she thought of their conversation earlier, upon arrival home.

"Take over your parents' bedroom?" he'd drawled, his eyes wary. "That's a little too weird for me."

"But you sold your house with all your furniture included, and the sofa bed in the family room doesn't have that great of a mattress," she'd stated. Their honeymoon had lasted only three nights at the hotel, and now they were alone in the big house while Bobby settled into dorm life in Seattle and Katie was at Ceil's until they picked her up tomorrow afternoon.

They'd piled their things in the hall and gone into the kitchen to make dinner, and Doug had turned from making an omelet. "We'll sleep in your room," he decided, eyeing her before turning back to check the runny borders of their egg.

"I have a twin bed, honey," she'd reminded him, going to his side. "What about the daybed in the nursery?"

"That's a possibility," he'd breathed as she hugged him from behind, "but we'll just have to move back out once she's back tomorrow night."

"You're right," she said, resting her cheek on his back. "How about the guest room?"

"No—it reminds me of too many angst-filled nights spent there alone," he sighed.

"Doug!" she protested, squeezing him before releasing her hold on him. "So we're going to spend our married life in my twin-sized bed?"

He grinned wolfishly at her. "Why, you think we need more room?"

"You know what I mean—"

"I kind of like the cramped quarters," he drawled, turning to encircle her in his arms.

"So do I, in a way," she sighed, eyeing the pan. "But we have to be comfortable too, and your eggs are burning."

"Ah!" he exclaimed, reluctantly turning back to his duty. "The point is that we need our own place."

"But why can't we stay here?" she protested. "Mom and Dad left us this house."

"If we do stay we're completely renovating your parent's room before I sleep in there," he insisted, eyeing her again. "But if the University offers me the position we'll have to move anyway…"

"I know," she sighed, looking around the empty house. "It's just that I think I'll really miss it here."

"That's the way we all feel about our childhood home," he said, glancing at her. "Hey, you ok?"

"Fine," she said, coming back to his side. "You know you're beginning to sound like a wise old sage."

"I am a wise old sage," he drawled, flipping the omelet and glancing at her. "Emphasizing 'wise…"

"Don't mind me," she said, taking out their dinner plates. "Actually when I think about the future, I don't can't imagine us all living here."

"Then we'll wait until I hear back from the department," he advised, cutting the omelet in half and sliding the larger piece onto her plate. "If they offer it to me we'll take a trip out there, maybe even a side trip to check out your mom's condominium."

She looked up from adding two slices of toast into the toaster. "San Diego? Really—we can go see it?"

"Absolutely…and Bobby can fly down to meet us there."

"Oh Doug that would be wonderful!" she cried excitedly. "You're sure we can afford it, and the time?"

"Are you kidding? I got a really good deal on the house and the store, not to mention the settlement."

"Thank you!" she cried, plowing into him as he lifted his arms around her.

"You'll see," he said gently, "we'll make a new start in a new place. I think it'll be good, for all of us."

_**One year later…**_

_**They stood together at the railing of the ferry, Katie in her stroller at his side. **_"It's beautiful," he heard her sigh as she inhaled the salt air. Katie cried excitedly, pointing at the sea gulls swooping low overhead.

"I knew you'd like it," he stated, looking down at his wife. "About time you took a ferry ride with me."

"The mountains on the peninsula, the water, Mount Rainier in the distance," she marveled. "It's just breathtaking."

He studied her expression, tightening his arm around her. "So are you."

She buried her face against his neck, pressing into him. He groaned in response, bending toward her.

"You're torturing me," he whispered into her ear, making her shiver with pleasure.

Brenda looked up, eyes glowing. "Just giving back what you've given me," she said with a smile.

He glanced down into her warm gaze, then at the sleeping face of their son Nathan, undisturbed despite all the excitement. Reaching over to tug her shawl higher to protect them from the breeze, he stared off into the distance toward the island emerging from the lingering mists. Considering everything that had happened over the last year, he sighed in thanksgiving. _God you've done it…_he marveled. _You've restored me …you've restored all of us. _

She twined her fingers through his. "Can I sit in on one of your classes?" she begged. "I promise I'll keep Nathan quiet."

He nodded. "Sure, but it may put your to sleep."

"Not if you're the professor," she teased, a twinkle in her eyes. "Besides, I think your female students need to know you've got a wife and kids."

He laughed. "I only have two female students—one is married and the other is 52 years old."

"Still," she grinned, looking up at him. "I want to see you in action."

"Oh really…tell that to your brother, who's avoided all of my classes."

"Bobby's not into engineering, you know that."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed, gazing back toward the island. He thought of the recent memorial service they'd flown in to attend, dedicating the monument and site to Lynne, her parents and all the other victims. It felt good to do that, but leaving the desert and the Northeast behind was necessary for them to build a new life. "I love you," he told her, meeting her gaze.

"I love you too," she whispered back.

"We need this, yet we'll still remember..."

She nodded as they looked up into the blue sky and did exactly that.

**THE END**

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt_


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